


Victory Rising

by Xazien



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-07-15 16:04:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7229263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xazien/pseuds/Xazien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Mercuria Adaar was The Herald of Andraste, leader of The Inquisition, she was a Qun-sympathising vashoth mercenary serving with The Blades of Valo-Kas. When her leader Shokrakar accepts a contract with a charismatic privateering tycoon to take on an army of bandits, the Blades find both their loyalties and personal beliefs tested as Shokrakar struggles with her violent side and Mercuria strives to resolve her greatest internal conflict: is she a vashoth, or a Qunari?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smack Down

Heads turned all across the Denerim market square as they walked in. The gang of grey, horned giants armed to the teeth and ready for battle.

Shokrakar. Mercuria. Derevar. Logger. Kaariss. Hadraada. Taarlok. Meraad. Sataa. Hissra. The two Ashaads.

The Blades of Valo-Kas.

The band of vashoth mercenaries strode through the market square towards the tavern across the way, shooting glares and flexing their rippling muscles. The leader, Shokrakar, drew the most shocked stares with her enormous ram horns bigger than a human arm and enormous stature, standing taller and broader than any of the others. Mercuria, to her left, caused glares and mutterings among the Chantryfolk at her Qunari warpaint and armour, as well as the staff slung over her back that was rumoured to be more than just a melee weapon. Derevar, to his leader’s right, enjoyed looks of uneasy attraction from the women in the square at his chiselled, muscular physique and perfectly sculpted face, causing stirrings among even the most Qunari-hating of the Denerim populace. After crossing the market square to the tavern without incident, they pushed the door open.

The people of The Gnawed Noble didn’t look up from their drinks as the group of regulars strode in, making themselves comfortable at the biggest chairs available. Shokrakar leant against the bar and waved the bartender over.

“A couple of pitchers of mead, Jarvid,” Shokrakar ordered. She then turned back to her men. “And what’ll you be having, boys?”

The Valo-Kas mercenaries cheered and whooped loudly, laughing rowdily at their leader’s joke, while the bartender sighed and began to pour several pitchers of mead. Shokrakar casually tossed a bag of gold onto the bar, which landed with a thud before the barman.

“For the drinks, tip and some directions,” Shokrakar said, leaning up against the bar which creaked under her weight. She then looked at her men, who were having an especially violent arm wrestling tournament over a rickety-looking table. “And for any potential damages. The guy with the job, he round back?”

“In The Alienage,” the barman said, placing two pitchers of mead on the bar. Taarlok went over to retrieve one for the men, and the bartender carried on talking as Shokrakar downed the other. “Guy runs a fight club there, you can place a couple of bets if you swing by.”

“Fight club?” Shokrakar’s eyes lit up.

“Come on, boss,” Derevar called to her from the table, where he was pouring Mercuria a flagon of mead. “We’re here for a job, don’t let the blood rage ruin this like last time.”

Shokrakar simply laughed the comment off, wiping her thick lips of mead. She slammed the pitcher down and strode off.

“Ok boys!” Shokrakar yelled to her men. “I’m gonna meet with our guy. Anyone fancy leaving their drinks to escort a lady?” The joking question was met with large amounts of raucous laughter. “Ok, Derevar, you’re in charge while I’m gone.”

“No can do boss,” Derevar replied, holding up his charred and twisted sword. “Got to get me a new weapon, checking in on the blacksmith’s.”

“Then Mercuria’s the boss for now,” Shokrakar said coyly. “But wait, no, you two are glued together.”

The Valo Kas mercenaries laughed heartily as Derevar smiled bashfully and Mercuria blushed under her red and white Vitaar. The two mercenaries finished their drinks and got up to leave with Shokrakar, the Valo Kas leader slapping their rears and howling with laughter as they left.

“Logger, you’re the boss!” Shokrakar called back to Logger, the second largest of the group, with huge ram horns to rival Shokrakar’s. “I’ll be back with a damn good fight to be had boys, you just wait!”

***

Derevar and Mercuria stood in an ally, gazing into each other’s eyes as Mercuria leant up against the wall. Mercuria’s curved ram horns tapped against Derevar’s smaller bull horns, her Vitaar-painted grey skin brushing against his flawless and rich bronze skin. Their lips met, the two pecking each other playfully with coy grins.

“So, Mercuria Adaar...” Derevar said playfully. “Warrior of the Qun. Still interested in a heathen Bas such as myself?”

“I may admire the Qun,” Mercuria replied, stroking his chest with her fingertip. “But I’m no Qunari. That would make me a Saarebas. A ‘dangerous thing’. Do I look like a dangerous thing to you, Derevar?” She smiled teasingly.

“Oh, I know how dangerous you are...” Derevar grinned, going in for the kiss.

The two vashoth lovers stood intertwined in the alley, their lips together and their eyes blissfully closed.

***

Shokrakar strode through Denerim Alienage, her huge physique and the enormous two-headed battleaxe slung over her back being all that was needed to ward off any pickpockets or muggers. She passed the limp Vhenadahl tree, looking with pity at its wilting leaves and cracked bark.

The Alienage had suffered the worst since The Blight. No-one in Ferelden would admit it, but crime had soared after the Civil War had ended. Armies of bandits and bounty hunters had occupied the fortresses set up by the Banns and Loghain Supporters across the Ferelden countryside, and the necessary reconstruction on major cities such as Denerim and Amaranthine had resulted in large crime syndicates appearing throughout urban Ferelden while the guards were spread thin. Even now, in 9:39 Dragon, the problem remained. A few years back Gadreel Mahariel had wiped out the Amaranthine crime syndicate and had almost cleaned up Denerim, but the criminal underworld of Ferelden’s capital was still very much alive. And what better place to base it in than The Alienage? No guard ever went in there anyway.

Shokrakar arrived at a small hovel at the end of The Alienage, nodding at the slim elven doorman who was casually leaning against the door with a sword by his side. After taking in Shokrakar’s scarred, grey, muscular body that considerably dwarfed his own he decided to let her pass, swinging open the splintering door on the way in. The huge vashoth barely fit down the thin passage in led to, but she made her way down nonetheless. She could smell sweat and blood and booze, hear cries and boos and the sound of a good, rough fight. She was gonna like it here.

Shokrakar ducked under the doorway and entered the fight club. The whole place was chaos, thugs with weapons on display drinking and cheering and grinned at the scantily-clad women who strutted around. There was a huge fighting ring in the middle on the room, the previous white floor stained with blood and brains, and two stocky dwarven bare-knuckle boxers were beating each other within an inch of their lives. There was a betting stand operated by a toothless elf in the corner, where people were staking wagers on who’d be the first dwarf to die.

Shokrakar was more interested in the young elven man by the bar, however, leaning back on his chair with his feet up on a gnarled table. His garments were the finest in this place, a silken suit of bright yellow and red, marking him out as the man who all the coin here flowed through. The establishment’s owner, as well as a money-lender, middleman and information broker. He had several ugly, stubby but expensive gold rings all the way up his ear, from the lobe to the pointed tip. As Shokrakar approached him, brushing by a large one-eyed Qunari and the armoured man next to him, the elven crime baron took out a long pipe from his jacket, lit it with a match and began smoking, acrid black clouds billowing from the end. Shokrakar could smell it from across the room.

“I do wish you’d put that thing out, Soris,” Shokrakar said as she sat down next to him.

Soris simply grinned, flashing a set of yellow teeth. “Just you and those beautiful muscles try and stop me, friend.” He chuckled lightly to himself before picking something unpleasant-looking from his teeth and popping it back into his mouth. “You’re heard the word?”

“Yes,” Shokrakar said impatiently. “You sent word out that there was a job going that need Qunari mercenaries. I’m here for the job. The rest of my people are at the tavern.”

“Is Mercuria with them?” Soris said with a unnerving grin.

“She should be,” Shokrakar said suspiciously. “Why?”

“I was just about to send a message to you personally,” Soris explained, taking another rancid puff from his pipe. “I was chatting with the client earlier today and mentioned Mercuria, he said he now wanted the Valo-Kas and ONLY the Valo-Kas.” He smacked his lips and lay down his pipe. “Good thing you showed up when you did. You want the job?”

“I want the details,” Shokrakar said suspiciously. She went to lean back on her chair but after it creaked under her weight she decided not to. “Pay, client, job.”

“I believe the pay and job are something the client wishes to discuss with you personally,” Soris continued. “You’ll be compensated for your time with him, apparently. His name’s Percival Cain, some kinda pirate fleet commander. Very wealthy, very powerful, and operates out of a castle he bought in Gwaren. ‘Castle Cain’, he calls it. Might be worth you and your people swinging by, even if you don’t take the job you’ll get paid for stopping by.”

Shokrakar considered for a moment. “Ok, Soris,” she said. “I’ll take it.” She placed a purse of coins in the elf’s outstretched hands and got up to leave.

“You wait a damn second.”

Shokrakar turned around to see the one-eyed Qunari she’d brushed past standing there, trying to square up to her. He was smaller than her, but his huge bull horns and large hammer gave him plenty of presence. Several people had noticed the potential fight, taking their eyes off of the dwarves and instead fixating on the two Qunari.

“Boss, please,” said the young man in the armour who’d been sitting with the Qunari. “We can find another job, the boys and I already have a good lead...”

“No, Krem,” the one-eyed Qunari said forcibly, silencing his lieutenant with a glare. He then fixed his cold, hard eye back on an unimpressed Shokrakar. “You. The name’s Iron Bull, and you just stole my contract.”

“The nature of the job has changed,” Soris said nonchalantly as he counted his coins. “The contract is now exclusive to The Blades of the Valo-Kas, and the previous offer made to you has been retracted. Sorry, Iron Bull,” Soris grinned mockingly at The Iron Bull. “But your Chargers can’t compete with Shokrakar’s boys when it comes to number of Qunari.”

“Chief, please, you’ve had too much to drink...” Krem urged his boss, his pleas falling on deaf ears.

“It’s not fair!” Iron Bull cried, pointing his finger rudely at Shokrakar. “I want that contract! It was promised to me!”

“Really, if you care so much...” Soris sighed. “Iron Bull, Shokrakar, would you like to settle this in the ring?”

“Damn right!” Iron Bull cried, punching the air, the crowd whooping around him. Even the two dwarves in the ring had stopped to look.

“Then it’s settled,” Soris said. “Place your bets, everyone. This is going to be a fight to remember.”

Shokrakar smiled. She could already feel the red mist coming down.

This man had NO idea what he’d let himself in for.

***

Shokrakar and The Iron Bull had stripped down to bare chests and were circling each other in the ring, cracking their knuckles at each other and gritted their teeth as the crowd bayed for blood.

“This fight is until submission!” Soris cried from atop a table. “All betting is now closed. Ladies and gentlemen, enjoy the fight!”

As soon as Soris had finished the two Qunari charged at each other at full pelt, adrenaline surging and heads down, horns ready to gore. Iron Bull had the larger horns, but the shape of Shokrakar’s ram horns gave her and advantage. As the two Qunari neared each other Shokrakar ducked down suddenly, hoping to gore The Iron Bull in the stomach and end the fight quickly, but the Qunari warrior was wilier than he appeared. He had been expecting the attack and so kicked up, his knee catching Shokrakar hard in the face. Her nose broke on impact and she flipped back, but the blow wasn’t hard enough to floor her. Instead she recover surprisingly quickly and threw a series of successive punches, most of which Bull managed to block but one of which struck him in the chest, winding him slightly. Shokrakar took the advantage and elbowed Iron Bull in the face, but the blow was weak. Iron Bull retaliated viciously with a huge punch that struck Shokrakar hard in the face, sending her reeling back.

The crowd roared as Shokrakar wobbled, finding herself in a daze. Through blurred vision she could see Iron Bull coming at her again with another punch and manage to grab his arm and twist it before repetitively elbowing him hard in the back of the head. She then kicked him hard in the stomach and sent him flying back. She then ran at Bull, hoping again to gore him with her horns, but he recover at the last second and managed to move out of the way of a potentially killing blow. Shokrakar’s left horn still pierced his shoulder, however, and Iron Bull hissed before instinctively punching out and striking Shokrakar in the throat. Shokrakar gagged and stumbled back, sinking to her knees and coughing desperately.

“Do you submit?” The Iron Bull roared, standing over her with his arms raised. “Do you submit to The Iron Bull?”

Shokrakar heard the crowd’s jeers and bloodlust. Heard Bull’s triumphant cries.

Saw the red mist come down.

Felt the blood in her veins begin to boil.

Now the REAL fight had begun.

Shokrakar roared and leaped up, grabbing Iron Bull by the arm and twisting it violently. Iron Bull howled as Shokrakar dislocated his shoulder. Shokrakar, spitting with fury, did not relent and instead grabbed Bull’s face and smashed it down repeatedly on her knee until blood was streaming from the Qunari’s face. Shokrakar then shoved him upright before sweeping his legs out from under him with a swift kick and punching down, striking Iron Bull hard in the chest and knocking him even harder to the ground. Finally, Shokrakar leapt up into the air and landed elbow-first on top of the helpless Iron Bull. All of the wind was knocked out of him, but he still managed to utter a few words.

“I... submit...”

“We have a winner!” Soris cried. “Shokrakar of The Blades of the Valo-Kas, the Percival Cain Contract is yours!”

But something was wrong. Shokrakar hadn’t relented. She was still hissing and spitting with fury, punching and punching the helpless Iron Bull, revelling in the violence and the blood. The previously bloodthirsty crowd were now nervous, almost to a state of panic, as Shokrakar pounded and pounded her helpless victim.

“Stop her!” Soris cried. “Somebody stop this madwoman!”

Within seconds the patrons around the ring had produced all manner of swords, daggers and crossbows, all pointing at Shokrakar. Slowly, the Valo-Kas leader realised what was happening and slowed down her onslaught before several beefy human guards climbed into the ring to drag her away, and Krem went into the ring to help his boss.

“Fucking psychopath...” Iron Bull muttered weakly, spitting out a tooth as he was helped up.

Shokrakar sneered at the guards as they left her, glaring at the wary looks of the patrons as they returned to their seats. She folded her arms as Soris walked up to her.

“I don’t know what the hell that was,” Soris seethed. “But you and I will never do business again, do you hear me? I’ll tell Cain you’re on your way to discuss the contract, but after that if you set foot in this Alienage again I’ll have your head on a spike, understand? Good.”

Soris stormed away, muttering curses under his breath.

“Nice work, boss.”

Shokrakar sighed as she turned to see Logger standing in the doorway, his arms folded. Logger may have been the only other Qunari Shokrakar had ever met who was as big as her, but he didn’t scare her. It kept him in the group though, despite the fact that he constantly criticised Shokrakar’s fighting style.

“I thought I told you to keep that blood rage lunacy in line,” Logger hissed. “You’re getting out of control, boss. When I left the Qun I thought all the stories they said about Tal-Vashoth becoming violent lunatics was just propaganda. And yet here you are.”

“I thought I told YOU to stay in charge of the men,” Shokrakar shoved her way past him, mopping the blood off herself with a rag from her belt. “Come on, let’s go round up the others. We’ve got ourselves hired.”


	2. Percival Cain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blades of the Valo-Kas have been recruited to serve a wealthy stranger named Percival Cain, and head to his castle in Gwaren to learn the terms of their contract

Castle Cain.

It was a large and simple structure, with the classic castle appearance of grey stone walls with towers and battlements, even a drawbridge over the moat. It wasn’t a moat as such, however, as Mercuria noticed. Castle Cain backed onto the Eastern Sea, and the ocean water was filling the trench dug around Percival Cain’s fortress. Mercuria could see what looked like a ship’s mast poking over one of the lower parts of the castle. Soris had mentioned to Shokrakar that Cain’s trade was high-seas piracy. She wondered how big this ship of his truly was.

As the Valo-Kas approached the castle the spiked metal portcullis over the door rose up and a troop of guardsmen in dark green leather armour marched in a well-rehearsed fashion out of the castle to stand guard along the drawbridge. Once all of the guards had taken their place along the bridge a woman walked out of the castle to stand before the Qunari mercenaries.

The woman’s skin and long, thick hair alike were both a pure white, the very same colour as snow. It contrasting strikingly with her tight black dragonskin dress that showed off her tall and slim figure, the collar of which was long and high and went upwards, surrounding her head and neck. Her beautiful appearance was made even more remarkable than the swirling and intricate bright green tattoo on one side of her face, the colour matching that of her eyes. The final detail that was noted were her ears, which were small enough to escape notice beneath her hair but still noticeably ended in tiny points that marked her out as an elf.

“Welcome to Castle Cain,” the woman said in an eloquent and sophisticated upper-class Ferelden accent, flashing the group a dazzling white-toothed smile. “My name is Zarael, assistant to Admiral Percival Cain. You are the Blades of the Valo-Kas, correct?”

“The very same,” Shokrakar belched as she extended a large hand to Zarael, which the elven woman shook with barely concealed disdain. “Here to kill people for your boss. Probably. People usually want us to do that, can’t think why.” She gestured to the scarred, muscular and heavily armed group behind her.

“Yes,” Zarael said nervously. “Well, do come this way.”

Zarael gestured for the group to follow and they did so, most of the men among them unable to keep their eyes off their elven guide. Zarael’s boots, which went up to her knees and were made of yet more black dragonskin, had peculiarly high and pointed heels which made a clicking sound as they walked along. The latest impractical fashion, Mercuria assumed.

Zarael lead the mercenaries down a corridor lined with black flags depicting heraldry: a skull with a triangular goatee beard and a battered, wide-brimmed hat. They followed the corridor to a large pair of wooden double doors which swung open as she clicked her fingers, revealing a large and mostly empty room. In the middle of the room sat a man.

The man’s presence seemed to fill even the large space he was in, the confidence he carried himself with giving him a captivating bubble of influence that seemed so fragile yet impossible to pierce. It was impossible to draw yourself away from the man’s gaze, the Valo-Kas staring dumbfounded into his hypnotic yellow eyes and at his perfect, white-toothed grin above a pointed blonde goatee beard. More blonde hair hung loosely down from beneath the battered, wide-rimmed green leather hat he wore, matching his green leather boots and long green leather duster coat the brushed against the floor as he sat with one leg over the other on a beautifully carved wooden chair padded with red velvet cushioning. His held in his hand a crystal glass of a rich gold liquid, the same colour as the bottle of expensive Nevarran whiskey on the table.

“Zarael,” Percival Cain commanded. “Leave us.”

Zarael nodded, turned on her heel and clicked her fingers to shut the doors behind her, leaving the Blades in the room with Cain. His movements were slight and subtle, with no tells or twitches, just his eyes moving from one Qunari to the other. Finally, his eyes rested on Mercuria.

“Ah,” Cain said, standing up and sauntering past Shokrakar over to Mercuria. He took her hand in his and gently kissed in, making Derevar bristle next to her. “You must be the Qunari I’ve heard so much about. Mercuria Adaar.”

“I... yes, Messere Cain, sir,” Mercuria blushed. It was extremely unlike her to act like this, but Percival Cain’s charm was irresistible.

“ _Admiral_ Cain,” he corrected her with a smile and a wink, before turning away to stand before the rest of the Blades. “It is truly a pleasure to meet you all.”

“Same here,” said a disgruntled Shokrakar, who stepped forwards to shake Cain’s hand. “Shokrakar. The _leader_ ,” she shot a look at Mercuria “of these men.”

“Of course,” Cain said, disinterested, downing his whiskey in a single gulp before laying the empty glass down on the table next to him. He then sat back on his chair and clicked his fingers. Upon the click a door burst open at the side of the room and a small, tubby little man with a red face ran in, panting and holding a stack of papers. He slowed to a stop as he dashed across the room upon reaching the table next to Cain.

“Jethro,” Cain said, not looking up from beneath the brim of his hat. “Pour me another drink, and give the pictures out to our guests.”

The man, Jethro, hurriedly passed two pieces of vellum to each Valo-Kas before pouring Cain another glass of whiskey. Cain picked up the glass but did not drink from it, simply holding it as a prop as the Qunari looked at the vellum before them.

There was a picture on each vellum: both wanted posters. One was for a faceless man, a figure in a large visored helmet with tall bull horns on top. The poster gave his name as ‘Kadmund Dravin’. The second poster was for another human man with a strong, chiselled face with neat facial hair and dreadlocks tied together in a ponytail. His name was ‘Kraegor Tok’.

“Since The Blight Ferelden has been stuck in a crime-wave crisis,” Cain announced. “One that the Ferelden nobility would rather ignore. While they act like it isn’t happening the ever-growing bandit tribes of Ferelden have begun to unite under these men: Kadmund Dravin and his trusted lieutenant Kraegor Tok. They have occupied various makeshift fortresses erected and abandoned during the Civil War and have truly become a military force to be reckoned with. So far they have done nothing but their usual activities of raiding caravans, albeit in a more organised fashion, but they must be destroyed before they can pose a true threat.”

“You’re a true public servant, for a pirate,” Derevar commented.

Cain smiled. “Trust me, my interest in this is purely business related. Kadmund Dravin has a deal with my arch business rival, Stanzel Haines, and I would see them removed before they can negatively impact me.”

“So you wish us to destroy these bandits?” Shokrakar said. “What is the fee? Do you want Haines dead too?”

“I would very much like to see Haines dead,” Cain replied. “But not by your hand. I have a more intricate approach for that. However, yes, I would like Dravin and Tok dead and their organisation destroyed. As for the fee, you will receive the sum of two hundred sovereigns once both Dravin and Tok are slain and their army is decimated to my satisfaction. Acceptable?”

“Very much so, Admiral Cain,” Shokrakar was practically salivating at the idea of so much money, even divided amongst them. “Where are we to strike first?”

Cain nodded at Jethro, who handed Shokrakar a map of Ferelden with a spot in the Southron Hills marked with an X.

“This is the first of four major fortresses you shall strike,” Cain said. “Fort Dominus. Kraegor Tok’s fortress, a strong and sturdy keep left over from the Ferelden rebellion. You’ll be starting off with quite a challenge. But,” Cain flashed a smile at Mercuria. “I’m sure you’re up to it.”

“We’ll take it,” Shokrakar said irritably. “Come on men, we’re moving out.”

And with that the Blades of the Valo-Kas left Castle Cain, on the way to battle.

***

Percival Cain sat in his chair, smiling and sipping his whiskey.

“Already you sow seeds of contempt among the mercenaries,” Zarael said with admiration. “Are you sure it will have the desired effects?”

“Of course,” Cain said, not looking up from his drink. “Dravin and Haines will be destroyed utterly, and then no-one will stand in my way. The Cain Privateer Fleet will become the dominant economic force in all of southern Thedas, and then finally my dream will be complete. My empire. Everything will fall into place, Zarael. It always does.”


	3. Horns Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blades of the Valo-Kas have been hired by the wealthy piracy kingpin Percival Cain to conquer the bandit keep of Fort Dominus and slay their leader, the fearsome warlord Kraegor Tok

A huge man sat upon the throne of rock coated in bearskin, holding a large cooked bird’s leg in one hand. He took a large bite from it with his bare teeth, chewing it with satisfaction as the juices ran down his trimmed black goatee and rich, dark olive skin that rippled with muscle. As he lay back on his throne gripped the heavy, thick-handled single-headed axe tightly in one hand while he surveyed the scene before him. His throne room was decorated with fierce and serrated weapons of all kinds that covered the walls, the floors covered in animal skins still stained with blood. The light was provided by a few metal fire baskets scattered around the room, allowing him the perfect lighting to see the scantily-clad serving girls that wandered around the room, trying to catch his eye and earn his favour.

“You, girl,” said Kraegor Tok with a belch, wiping his mouth of grease with a bare arm. He pointed at a tall, curved human woman with an air of confidence about her, despite being dressed in nothing but her small clothes, who strutted over to attend to him.

“Good...” Tok said greasily as the woman bent over the throne arm, pushing her face closer to his and smiling a coy smile. “Bring me more wine, would you?” the bandit chief said with a yellow-toothed smile. The woman smiled another coy smile and turned to leave the room and fetch another drink for her master.

Tok smiled. He enjoyed the finer things in life. Strong drinks, eager women and red meat. He was king of this castle by right. Only the strongest should rule, and he had proven himself the strongest. Dravin still insisted that he take more care, sending him messages every day about rumours of an army of Qunari sent from Par Vollen to slay him. Nonsense. He was untouchable. He was the greatest warrior in the whole world.

Kraegor Tok took another bite of his chicken leg and grinned. So what if there were enemies coming? Let them come. He would show them a true warrior.

***

The light from the flame in Mercuria’s palm provided just enough glow for the group to see as they crept through the sewers, ducking down to fit their huge Qunari frames through the tight tunnels. Logger and Shokrakar were almost impossible to fit through and already their sides were bleeding as they scraped along.

Shokrakar, Derevar, Mercuria, Logger, Sataa and Hadraada made their way through the sewers beneath Fort Dominus, holding their breath as they waded through the sewage and prayed for the exit to come along soon. It had been Derevar’s plan. While Shokrakar had been all for charging the huge stone fortress and hitting it with everything they had, he’d convinced her that stealth was the best option. They’d discovered a sewer entrance and, using plans of the fort they’d borrowed from Percival Cain, were making their way through the tunnels to break into the fort. Once they made it into the main fortress Derevar, Sataa and Hadraada would sneak off and find a way to let the other Valo-Kas, who were hiding behind a rise not far from the fort, inside. Meanwhile Mercuria, Shokrakar and Logger would find and kill Kraegor Tok.

“How far to go?” Sataa asked, her voice strained. She was a young woman with the smallest figure of all of them, but even she was struggling as her horns scraped on the tunnel’s ceiling.

“Just a few more steps,” Derevar muttered through gritted teeth. “I have no idea why Percival Cain exclusively wanted Qunari for this... ridiculous idea... I can hardly breathe.”

“He respects our strength,” Shokrakar replied as she squeezed her way through the tunnels. “The Tal-Vashoth are mighty warriors, and you vashoth aren’t so bad either. He knows he needs the best to get this done.”

“Because we’re fighting fit right now,” Logger muttered sarcastically.

The tunnel started to get mercifully wider as they travelled a little further, until all the Qunari breathed a sigh of relief as they burst from the tunnel into a small cave, with two paths leading off in different directions.

“By the Qun...” Mercuria panted, an exclamation that clearly irked Logger but was otherwise ignored. “I’d take a battle against bandits any day before that tunnel...”

“It looks like the left path is for you,” Derevar said, stepping forward to place a gentle arm around Mercuria. “I’ll be going with Hadraada and Sataa on the right path, hopefully looking for some kind of gatehouse. Try not to raise any alarms before I can let the others in.”

“I’ll help keep our murder machine under control,” Logger said scornfully, nodding to Shokrakar. He then stuck out a hand which Derevar shook. “Stay safe, vashoth.”

Derevar, Sataa and Hadraada broke off from the others and took the right path, ducking under a tunnel entrance and heading up into the main castle.

“Keep a low profile when we’re inside,” Derevar whispered back to the other two. “We capture a bandit, interrogate him and find a way to open the gate, let our men in. Hopefully Shokrakar can stay focussed and quiet for long enough to use the distraction and kill Tok. Bandits always scattered when their leader falls, and we’ll be able to mop up the slowest.”

“Derevar, sir,” Sataa said curiously. “Why does Logger call all of us ‘vashoth’? Most of us, at least. Isn’t he one?”

“He isn’t,” Derevar replied as the group carried on through the tunnel. Sataa was the newest and youngest member of the group and still had a lot of learn of the culture of their people. “Logger, just like Shokrakar, Taarlok and the two Ashaads, is a Tal-Vashoth. While we were born outside the Qun, he and the others were born within it before fleeing.”

“Then why does he not like Shokrakar very much?” Sataa asked.

“Because she reminds him that not all Tal-Vashoth are perfect,” Derevar sighed. “Logger has always had a lofty idea of the Tal-Vashoth. He’s always talked of creating an independent Tal-Vashoth state, perhaps going to Seheron and uniting the Tal-Vashoth bandits there. Shokrakar reminds him that Tal-Vashoth are just people, as flawed as you and I.”

“Oh,” Sataa said, musing it over. “One last question. Is Mercuria really a vashoth? She wears Qunari armour, Qunari heraldry, has Qunari warpaint, talks a lot about how much she admires the Qun. Is she a Qunari?”

“Good question,” Derevar said darkly. “One we’d all like to know the answer to.”

They carried on through the tunnel, eventually reached a rotting wooden door that Derevar swung open, a large part of the door breaking open as it opened. The three vashoth looked around the entrance before nervously stepping into the keep. They were in a small store room, completely empty but for a couple of empty barrels. There was a bare exit with no door in front of it, so the three mercenaries pressed themselves against the wall lest a bandit walk past.

“Hadraada,” Derevar said quietly. “Take a look.”

Hadraada drew his twin hatchets and poked his head around the doorway. While Sataa was the youngest of the group Hadraada was the eldest, with a wispy grey beard and a scarred, burnt body to show with it. He had more than forty years experience as a mercenary under his belt, fighting in every major conflict in Thedosian recent history, from the Ferelden Rebellion to The Kirkwall Mage Rebellion. For the latter he’d only been in Kirkwall for another job. Good battles had a way of finding him.

“It’s clear,” Hadraada grunted. “But I hear men along the hallway.”

Derevar and Sataa tiptoed around the corner, weapons drawn, Hadraada skulking along behind them. He had been right: there were voices up ahead.

“A dozen barrels... on route to Gwaren... easy raid... Percival Cain...”

The three mercenaries dived into the shadows as a bandit appeared from a doorway, but she headed up the corridor without looking back to see them. Slowly, Derevar tiptoed over to the doorway she’d left from. There was a tall man inside the small, dimly-lit room in simple leather armour, whistling to himself as he tended to a stack of papers. Derevar signalled Sataa and Hadraada, and then dived in and grabbed the man from behind. He squeezed the bandit’s waist to wind him, stopping him from crying out, and then put his sword to the man’s throat to properly silence him.

“Well well,” Derevar whispered, the man quivering at the end of his blade. “What have we here?”

“Please!” the man protested, lowering his voice after a glare from Derevar as Hadraada and Sataa looked around the room. “I’m just the storeroom keeper; they just pay me to account for their loot after raids. I have nothing you could want!”

“Interesting,” Derevar murmured. “Say, you wouldn’t be able to point me the way to the gatehouse, would you? The front door could use opening.

The man gasped. “No! You’re going to invade the fortress! You’re them, aren’t you? The Qunari, sent from Par Vollen to conquer Ferelden! You’ve come for us first!”

“What?” Derevar asked, bemused. “Nevermind. Just point me the way to the gatehouse and I’ll let you live.”

“Boss,” Sataa said, appearing at Derevar’s side holding a piece of paper from the storeroom keeper’s table. She handed it to Derevar, pointing to the writing on it. “I think this could help us out. It’s an account of the loot from a recent raid, heading from Amaranthine to Gwaren.”

Derevar looked over the list. “Hmm... one crate of Nevarran whiskey, two crates of sylvanwood... and a dozen barrels of Antivan explosive blackpowder. Maker,” Derevar exclaimed, staring at the storeroom keeper. “What kind of shipment was this?”

“I... I don’t know...” the storeroom keeper stammered. “Just a wagon convoy from Amaranthine, delivering to some merchant prince in Gwaren named Percival Cain. I don’t know what he’d want with all that blackpowder, I promise.”

“Looks like Cain’s business is even less legitimate than we thought,” Derevar said, eyebrows raised. “Antivan blackpowder is second in value and power only to the kind made by the Qunari. It must be for his ship’s cannons. But why so much? How big can this ship be? How many does he have?”

“If these guys are raiding his shipments, it explains why he hired us to wipe them out,” Sataa replied.

“You’ll never kill us!” the storeroom keeper said defiantly. “You’ll never get to the gatehouse! It’s too well-guarded!”

“I don’t think we’ll need to,” Derevar said, glancing at the list with a smile. “Can you point us the way to the storeroom?”

***

Shokrakar grinned, her teeth flecked with blood to match her blood-splattered body, and slung her axe over her back.

The leader of the Blades of the Valo-Kas stood in the middle of several bandit corpses, their blood and brains coating the walls and floor. Mercuria looked stunned at the scene. Logger just looked disappointed.

“In my defence,” Shokrakar said. “I didn’t want them raising the alarm.”

“Neither did I,” Logger said, folding his huge arms. “This is why I would have simply waited for them to pass by, like they were about to do without seeing us, instead of charging them and slaughtering them all with an axe the size of a large bear. Had I decided to do that, however, I’d have kept one of them alive to tell me where Kraegor Tok could be found. I’d have also kept at least one with a head, or limbs, or at least one organ still inside the body.”

Mercuria just stood horrified at the scene. Her eyes then widened and she reached up to her head, shuddering as she picked a human finger out of her hair and tossed it aside, refusing to look at it.

“Well,” Mercuria said finally. “We... we should probably look for Tok. Yes, that’s what we should do.”

Mercuria drew her staff and walked off, Logger and Shokrakar following. Logger shot a glare at Shokrakar as she attempted to wipe the blood from her torso with an even bloodier palm.

The group unsubtly made their way around the corridors, searching aimlessly for any clue to Kraegor Tok’s whereabouts. Shokrakar and Logger’s immense sizes made stealth difficult and Mercuria had to spend more time stopping them from breaking things than ensuring her own caution. It was a miracle they hadn’t been caught yet. Mercuria just hoped that Derevar’s team was doing better than they were.

As the three mercenaries were searching around a suspicious speck of dust on the windowframe for any possible signs of Kraegor Tok, a shadow came over the corner. Shokrakar, Logger and Mercuria froze, flattened themselves up against the wall. But they knew there was nothing they could do as the bandit turned the corner to see them.

So Shokrakar did the only thing she could do.

The Valo-Kas leader gave out a mighty war cry as she charged at the surprised bandit and grabbed him, snapping his arm with a single twist as he attempted to draw his blade. The blood rage from her last battle still lingered and Shokrakar felt the red mist descend as she picked the man up, holding him with both arms above her head, and then roared as she threw the helpless bandit towards the nearby window. The window shattered as the bandit hit it and sailed through the open gap, screaming as he fell before hitting the ground with a crunch and a splatter that silence his cries.

“By the Qun,” Mercuria said weakly, staring at Shokrakar with wide eyes and a pale face. “What have you done...”

The alarm bells began to ring.

Bandits surged into the courtyard.

The mercenaries could hear the bandit armies already charging down the corridors to their location.

“In my defence,” Shokrakar said. “He’d probably have raised an alarm anyway.”

Logger, Shokrakar and Mercuria bolted in three different directions, each running down a different corridor. Looking back as she fled, Mercuria saw Logger charge straight into a squad of heavily-armed bandits. She winced and looked back at the path ahead before she could see what unfolded. She sprinted down the corridor, staff gripped tightly in her hand. No sign of any bandits yet. Maybe Shokrakar and Logger had kept them off her, maybe she was safe, maybe-

WHACK

Mercuria didn’t even see the blow that knocked her out cold, she just felt a blunt object strike her temple and her world went black as she collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Kraegor Tok, the man who had struck the blow, stepped out of the doorframe he’d been skulking in and pointed his thick-handled axe at the unconscious Mercuria.

“Well well,” Tok said with a grin. “A Qunari. The fun I’ll have with you...”


	4. The Ultimate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercuria, Shokrakar and Logger have failed to assassinate Kraegor Tok, leaving it up to Derevar to conquer Fort Dominus

Derevar, Sataa and Hadraada tiptoed into the storeroom, squinting in the meagre light Sataa’s torch offered.

“There,” Derevar said with a glint in his eye as they stepped into the room. “There they are.”

The storeroom was full to the brim of barrels and barrels of explosive blackpowder, all marked with warning signs. It was like Derevar’s birthday had come early.

“We may not be able to open the door to let the others in,” Derevar grinned. “But we can sure as hell make a new one. Put that torch down,” he gestured to Sataa. “Don’t bring it into the room, we could set off the explosives. If we really need more light I have these.” He pointed to his belt, where several firecrackers hung. “For emergencies,” he explained. “They’re slow-burning so should give us plenty of time.”

Sataa placed the torch on the ground and she stepped into the storeroom with Hadraada and Derevar, staring nervously at the blackpowder barrels.

“Don’t worry,” Derevar assured her. “They’re safe. At least for now,” he knelt down by one of the barrels and examined it. He then gestured to Hadraada to stand guard by the door before going back to examining the barrels. “If I can create a long enough fuse... the explosion from one will set them all off... and we’ll have time to get away. It’ll blow a nice big hole in the side of Fort Dominus, and if the rest of the Blades don’t take it as a signal then they’re half as bright as I thought.”

Derevar crouched down and began to prepare one of the barrels. It would only take a few minutes, as long as they weren’t interrupted...

And then he heard the alarm bell sounding in the courtyard.

“Oh for the love of...” Derevar cursed. “One guess who set that off...”

At Derevar’s command, Sataa and Hadraada drew their blades.

“We have to assume they know we’re here,” Derevar said. “And that the others aren’t coming to help. I’ll finish up here, but I’ll need you two to defend me.”

As Sataa and Hadraada took their positions by the doorway Derevar began rigging the explosives. He just hoped that he had enough time.

And, he prayed to whatever god may be listening, that Mercuria was alive.

***

Shokrakar awoke to a cold, hard ground pressing against her face, the sound of cheering, and a sense of dread hanging around her like a toxic cloud.

She pulled herself up and took in her surroundings. She was in some kind of pit, with high and bare walls topped with spikes to prevent escape. All around the edge of the pit were ugly bandits wrapped in furs and leathers, chanting and howling and waving their weapons in the air. Across the pit from her, just stirring into consciousness, was Logger.

“Qunari!” a voice at the edge of the pit cried.

Shokrakar looked up to see Kraegor Tok himself, standing tall and broad with a bare, muscular brown chest and dirty dreadlocked hair that went down to his waist and matched in both colour and cleanliness his black goatee. He held tightly in his hand a thick-handled single-headed battleaxe, and wore upon his face a sickening grin.

“Qunari warriors!” Tok cried, punching the air to the cheers of his thugs. “Welcome to Fort Dominus!”

“What in the...?” Logger had pulled himself up and was staring up at Tok with confusion. “What do you want with us? Why are we still alive?”

Tok and his men laughed. “Because we want our sport, Qunari,” Tok replied with a raucous, bellowing laugh. “I have a saying. ‘Only the strongest shall rule’. I have proven myself time and time again in that very pit to be the strongest of them all. Now, you shall do the same! Do battle, Qunari! Prove who is the strongest!”

Tok’s men whooped and cheered and bayed for blood as Shokrakar and Logger stood in the pit.

“Why would we fight each other?” Shokrakar shouted up at Tok. “You want a fight? Come down and prove yourself against me!”

Tok and his men once again cheered with laughter, and Tok gestured behind him. Two bandits threw Mercuria forwards, the mercenary mage landing with a thud on her knees before Kraegor Tok. She looked bruised and battered, but alive. At least for now. Tok lifted up his battleaxe and held it over Mercuria’s neck, and one of Tok’s men picked Mercuria’s staff from the floor and pointed the sharpened, spear-head end at Mercuria’s neck.

“You will both fight,” Kraegor Tok commanded Logger and Shokrakar. “Or I will take her head. Then, when one of you lies dead in the dust, the victor will have the honour of taking on me! We will see who the ultimate fighter is! Only the strongest shall rule!”

Shokrakar and Logger looked at each other from across the fighting pit. They knew there was no other choice.

“Derevar,” Logger whispered to himself as he cracked his knuckles and he and Shokrakar circled each other. “You’d better hurry up with that gate.”

And then, without any further warning, Shokrakar and Logger bent down, primed their horns and charged head first at each other.

The fight had begun.

Shokrakar struck Logger before he could gore her, piercing his torso with each of her horns. The wound was shallow but Shokrakar then bucked up and tossed Logger backwards before leaping towards him, hands outstretched and ready to throttle him. Logger, however, was faster than she’d expected and had already sprung to his feet. He grabbed Shokrakar’s arms and twisted them behind her back.

“What are you doing?” Logger hissed in Shokrakar’s ear. “We don’t need to properly hurt each other, just pretend to fight until Derevar can open the gate!”

But Shokrakar wasn’t listening. Logger didn’t know if it was from anger at him, or at Tok, or from fear for Mercuria, but Shokrakar’s blood rage had already begun. The red mist had come down.

“Oh no,” Logger said weakly. “Shokrakar, think about what you’re-”

But Shokrakar couldn’t hear him. She gave out an almighty roar and flung her arms out wide, throwing Logger off of her back. She then turned around and punched Logger full in the face. The huge Tal-Vashoth flew backwards and skidded across the floor, Shokrakar striding over to him with spittle flying from her mouth with rage.

“Shokrakar!” Logger cried from the ground, amidst the jeers from Kraegor Tok and his bandits. “This isn’t you! Calm down, think about what you’re doing! Don’t make me hurt you!”

But Shokrakar wasn’t there. She couldn’t hear him. All that was going through her head was that animalistic rage, the desire to punch and smash and rage and kill and destroy.

Logger knew at that moment that only one of them was making it out.

***

“They’ve found us,” Sataa said, steeling herself as the sound of approaching guards drew nearer.

Derevar cursed. There was no way he could finish rigging the explosives and still have time to get away, and this was hardly a mission he was prepared to die for.

“We could run now,” Hadraada said as the shadows of the approached guards passed over the far end of the corridor. “Get out, find the others, escape.”

“No,” Derevar shook his head. “We’d never escape, not with the backing of the others, and they can’t get in if we run. The bandits will find the fuse I set... wait!” Derevar’s eyes widened. “Keep them off me! Just for a second!”

As Derevar gave his command the bandits turned the corner and, seeing Sataa and Hadraada waiting, charged at them. Sataa and Hadraada bellowed battle cries and charged at their attackers, locking blades with the squad of armoured bandits. Outnumbered, the two vashoth quickly found themselves overwhelmed and beaten back.

“Derevar!” Hadraada shouted. “Do something! Help us!”

Derevar ignored his comrade’s plight, however, and continued fiddling around with the barrel of blackpowder. One bandit broke off from the group and lunged at Derevar, expecting easy prey, and found himself taken completely by surprise when the vashoth mercenary whipped out his blade and neatly sliced the bandit’s throat open. Then he went back to the blackpowder barrel.

Sataa howled as one of the bandits thrust his blade into her shoulder. She dropped her sword and fell to her knees, Hadraada jumping in to assist her. His effort earned him a hard punch in the head from another bandit. Hadraada went down, collapsing next to the wounded Sataa, the two vashoth at the mercy of the bandit warriors.

“Wait!” Derevar said, standing up from the blackpowder barrels with his arms in the air. He walked slowly over to the armed bandits who were surrounding Sataa and Hadraada, his hands behind his head to show his surrender.

“You give in, Qunari?” one of the bandits scoffed, spitting at Derevar’s feet.

“Yes,” Derevar said. “Yes, I do. I don’t want you to kill my people.”

“Well too bad!” the bandit laughed. He raised his sword. “Time for you all to die!”

“Wait!” Derevar cried, the bandits stopping just before they could execute the three prisoners. The bandits stared up at him with anticipation. “We have reinforcements coming,” Derevar said. “When they don’t hear from us, they’ll attack your castle. Take us away from here and let us speak with Kraegor Tok. We’ll get our men to stand down, on the condition that you release us later.”

The bandits mused over the decision for a while, the lead thug eventually making his choice.

“Fine,” the bandit said as he confiscated their weapons. “We’ll take you to the boss. Just don’t expect him to be as kind and welcoming as us.”

Derevar helped Sataa and Hadraada up and the three vashoth placed their hands behind their heads as the lead bandit stepped into the storeroom and nosed around the blackpowder barrels. With a snide, triumphant expression he pulled out a makeshift fuse Derevar had created from the top of the barrel.

“Thinking of blowing us all to pieces, Qunari?” the bandit laughed. “Think again. Take ‘em away, boys.”

The bandits lead the surrendered Qunari away from the storeroom and through the castle, guiding them through the corridors on the upper levels. Derevar could see no sign of Mercuria, or Logger and Shokrakar. That could mean anything. He smiled to himself softly. With luck, everything was coming together.

“Derevar?” Sataa whispered to him, confused. “Why are you smiling? They caught us. They found your fuse.”

“Yes,” Derevar said, grinning wickedly. “They found the fuse I _wanted_ them to find.”

The lead bandit heard his statement and spun around, but it was already far too late. There was a gigantic explosion as Derevar’s second fuse, the one he’d made from the firecrackers on his belt, reached its end and blew up the barrel of blackpowder. That explosion set off all the other barrels and the huge explosion rocked the keep to its very foundations, sending the entire fortress wall on the side it struck crumbling to dust and rubble.

Taking advantage of the distraction Derevar lunged out at the lead bandit and snapped his neck before snatching back the three confiscated swords. He tossed Sataa and Hadraada their blades and the three warriors made short work of the remaining bandits. Derevar then ran to the nearby window and looked out of it, staring with excitement at the pile of rubble that had been the keep’s wall. Taarlok was already leading the charge through the rubble into the keep, the rest of the Blades of the Valo-Kas behind her.

“We’ve done it,” Derevar said. “Now we just need to find the others. If Kraegor Tok isn’t dead yet he soon will be.”

***

Mercuria knelt on the floor, Kraegor Tok’s axe hovering over the back of her neck, ready to take her head at a moment’s notice. Meanwhile, Shokrakar and Logger beat each other viciously within an inch of their lives.

“Kill or be killed!” Tok cried down at the two battling Tal-Vashoth. “Remember that in this world, only the strongest shall rule! Climb to the pinnacle atop a mountain of the corpses of those unworthy! Prove yourselves!”

Mercuria was desperate to do something, anything. Lash out with a spell, take Tok by surprise, maybe even stop the maniacal Shokrakar from tearing Logger’s head off.

“Yes!” Tok cried as Shokrakar delivered a violent punch to Logger that smashed his head between the wall and her fist, knocking him out. Shokrakar, in her maddened state, didn’t stop punching him even as his unconscious body slid down the wall. “Kill him! Kill him!”

Mercuria couldn’t watch. There was no stopping Shokrakar when she was like this. She was going to kill Logger.

And then the bomb went off.

Had Mercuria not already been kneeling she’d have been knocked to the floor by the colossal explosion that ripped through the castle. The shockwave sent the bandits stumbling, making Kraegor Tok stumble over the edge of the fighting pit and falling into it. Tok, still gripping his battleaxe, landed on Shokrakar and knocked her unconscious. The bandit next to Mercuria, the one who was holding her staff, dropped the weapon and Mercuria immediately snatched it up and lunged forwards with it. She impaled the bandit on the staff’s pointed end before yanking it out and firing from it a bolt of lightning that sent the nearest bandit flying back and into the other bandits. Mercuria then summoned a fireball and threw it straight at them, setting all the thugs alight.

“What did you do, you Qunari witch?” Tok cried up at her from the pit. Gritted his teeth with fury, he held his axe over the unconscious forms of Shokrakar and Logger. “Come down here and face me, or I kill your friends!”

Mercuria, realising she had no other choice, steeled herself and leapt down into the pit, making a graceless and painful landing a few meters away from Tok. The bandit warlord grinned and twirled his axe in his hand, while Mercuria readied a spell.

“Think you’re tough enough to take me?” Tok laughed. “Come, and I’ll show you a true warrior as I take your head.”

“Come and get me,” Mercuria retorted. “Let’s see if the strongest really does rule things around here.”

Tok snarled at Mercuria and charged but the Qunari mage splayed out her hand and sent a stream of lightning coursing towards him, the magical energy striking him right in the chest and forcing him backwards. Tok gritted his teeth as the lightning coursed over him, but by some miracle of resilience and constitution the muscular warrior began pushing forwards, through the lightning stream. Mercuria increased the pressure but Tok didn’t let up, clenching his jaw as he pushed ever closer to Mercuria. Blood began to trickle from Mercuria’s nose as she strained the last dregs of her mana, before finally she ran out of energy and reeled backwards as the spell ended prematurely with a dramatic flash. Kraegor Tok took a moment to regain himself before grinning evilly, raising his axe and charging towards Mercuria. Tok leapt into the air and raised his axe above his head, preparing to bring it down and cleave Mercuria in two, but Mercuria instinctively lashed out with the pointed end of her staff and thrust the weapon towards her assailant. As Kraegor Tok landed he was impaled on the staff, the pointed end of the weapon piercing his abdomen and puncturing through his back on the way out. Tok hung there, skewered on the staff with a slight look of shock on his face, and then Mercuria pulled the staff back and Tok slid off it, his body slumping to the ground.

“Mercuria!”

Mercuria looked up to see Derevar standing at the edge of the pit, flanked by Hadraada and Sataa. She’d never been happier to see anyone in her life.

“Taarlok and the others are conquering the rest of the keep,” Derevar called down to her. “You killed him? You killed Kraegor Tok?”

Mercuria nodded. “And before Shokrakar and Logger could kill each other, too.” As if on cue, the two Tal-Vashoth had begun to stir.

“Wh-what happened?” Shokrakar mumbled as she pulled herself up, looking confused at Kraegor Tok’s corpse. “Tok... dead?”

“You,” Logger said as he stood up and dusted himself off. “Have a lot to answer for.”

“Save it!” Mercuria commanded Logger before he could start. “Save it for the trip back to Gwaren. Percival Cain is going to want to hear about this. Blades, we’re getting paid tonight.”


	5. Trust in Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blades of the Valo-Kas have returned to Gwaren to inform Percival Cain of their success, and learn more of their mysterious and charming employer

The Valo-Kas received a cold welcome from Zarael at the gate before being guided through the tall corridors of Castle Cain, soldiers in green armour still lining the corridors. All meticulously designed to wow and impress the mercenaries. So much about Percival Cain was theatre, Derevar realised. All the more reason to mistrust him. All the other Valo-Kas had been enthralled by this charming stranger, but Derevar wasn’t fooled. He was up to something. He just had to keep an eye open and figure out what it was.

Once again, Zarael opened the large double doors with a simple gesture and the group were ushered into the room where they had first met Percival Cain. Cain was there again, leaning casually up against a wooden table with yet another glass of whiskey in his hand. And he had prepared quite the greeting.

There were table covered in plates of steaming hot meat, large freshly-plucked birds and roasted boar. Rows and rows of beer barrels, boxes of wine and even a crate of Cain’s whiskey. Jaws dropped all across the room, with every Valo-Kas but Derevar gaping at the spread before them. Cain responding with a dazzling smile and a brief glance at Zarael, a signal for her to begin indignantly pouring a flagon of beer for one of the mercenaries. She took it over to the Valo-Kas with a disdainful expression and handed it to Shokrakar.

“Here,” Zarael said with forced cheer. “Compliments of Admiral Cain.”

Cain’s manservant, Jethro, appeared from behind a beer barrel and began passing out drinks to the mercenaries, who were all whooping and cheering with delight. As Mercuria picked a bottle of wine from the crate, Percival Cain glided over to her.

“Mercuria,” Cain said charmingly, gently taking her bottle of wine and removing the cork for her before handing it back. “I must congratulate your men on your victory at Fort Dominus. Truly extraordinary work. They truly benefit from your leadership.”

“ _Shokrakar’s_ leadership,” Mercuria half-heartedly corrected him, wishing instead that she had simply taken the compliment. “We... we couldn’t have done it without her. And might I ask, Messere Cain, how you even knew of our victory?”

“Because you’re all back and all still alive,” Cain said simply. “Now, your generous employer _Admiral_ Cain would love to know how Kraegor Tok died. Who struck the killing blow?”

“Well,” Mercuria blushed. Across the room she could see Derevar look uneasy, and she realised how close Cain had come to her. She allowed him to remain there, however, as he stared up at her with those bright yellow eyes and their enthrallingly sinister edge. “It was me,” Mercuria admitted. “I killed Kraegor Tok.”

“Well I never...” Percival Cain said, shaking his head and smiling. “Incredible...”

Cain waltzed over to the middle of the room and threw his arms out wide, addressing the Blades of the Valo-Kas who all turned to look at him. Cain gestured for Mercuria to stand next to him, much to the ire of both Derevar and Shokrakar.

“Blades of the Valo-Kas,” Percival Cain declared, capturing the attention of the whole room with just a few words. Already a captivating performance. For Percival Cain, all the world truly was a stage. “I do hope you enjoy the small celebration I have prepared for you, a reward for the conquest of Fort Dominus. But there is one among you who deserves great praise. The one whose fantastic leadership saw you to victory. The one who single-handedly slayed Kraegor Tok in battle. Today, you shall all sing praise of Mercuria Adaar!”

Mercuria bashfully stepped forwards as the Valo-Kas, with the notable exception of Shokrakar, whooped and cheered. Cain smiled a shark’s smile as the mercenaries chanted Mercuria’s name and toasted her with flagons full of drink. Amidst the ruckus and celebration, Cain glided away from Mercuria and up to the dutifully waiting Zarael.

“Is this truly necessary, sir?” Zarael asked with contempt. “These thugs will wreck the castle if we allow them to keep drinking.”

“It is extremely necessary,” Cain assured her, taking a sip from his own drink to disguise his scanning of the crowd. Mercuria being celebrated. Shokrakar slighted. Cain noted the presence of a second large Qunari, one as big as Shokrakar, standing by a beer barrel drinking. Both times the Valo-Kas had been guests of Castle Cain that man had stayed far away from Shokrakar. There was clear negative tension between them. Interesting. Perhaps something to lean on. “I shall be having a private conversation with our friend Mercuria,” Cain informed Zarael. “I want you to begin mingling. Defrost that cold demeanour and slap on a smile. Get to know the group dynamic, who hates who, who is sleeping with who, the leaders and the followers. Talk to the big male Qunari by the barrels and ask him about Shokrakar.”

Zarael nodded and, with enormous effort, managed a passable smile as she walked over to the Valo-Kas. Meanwhile, Cain walked over to Mercuria once again and beckoned her to follow him.

“Mercuria, my dear,” Cain said to her, with his most charming smile. “Would you like to follow me? I have something to show you.”

***

“I don’t like him,” Derevar said as he leant up against a table next to Hissra, holding a mug of ale. “I don’t trust him one bit.”

“Oh come on,” Hissra said, laughing his comment off. “I never had you down as the jealous type, Derevar. You just don’t like that the charming rich man has taken a shine to Mercuria.”

“I don’t like that,” Derevar admitted. “But it’s more than that. It’s like he’s grooming her. He can’t go five seconds without telling everyone how great she is, and he hasn’t even spoken to Shokrakar. She’s our leader; she’s the one he has the contract with. But he treats Mercuria like our leader, and ignores Shokrakar completely.”

“I suppose that is a little unfair,” Hissra replied. She then nudged Derevar and pointed to the group over by the beer kegs. Zarael was chatting with Logger, and she’d drawn the attention of Meraad and the two Ashaads. The three vashoth men seemed to be arguing over who had the best chance with her, while the cold elven woman forced a smile and conversed with Logger. “Looks like Zarael’s finally giving easing up a go. She must have left time in her schedule for socialising after it.”

“Yes,” Derevar said suspiciously, watching the white-skinned elf uncomfortably twirl her snow-white hair at Logger. “This whole setup just reeks of something...”

Derevar downed his ale and placed the mug down. Upon seeing that he didn’t have a drink, Jethro scampered over to Derevar and held out a full flagon of mead for him.

“For you, sir, Messere Qunari, sir, sir,” Jethro simpered as Derevar took the flagon, bowing so deeply that he was almost touching the floor.

“Even the servant is weird,” Derevar sighed.

Jethro gasped “I-I-I do apologise for having offended you, sir,” he stammered. “Please,” he shoved another flagon of mead into Derevar’s second hand. “Accept this as a token of my apology. Jethro Sykes lives to serve, Messere Qunari, sir!”

Derevar sighed again as he drank from his first flagon and dismissed Jethro with a wave. He couldn’t wait until they killed Kadmund Dravin, got paid and went home.

***

Percival Cain guided Mercuria out onto a balcony, which he leant against while sipping from his drink. Mercuria could smell sea air, she realised, as she joined him. Then she saw what he had to show her. The reason he insisted they call him _Admiral_ Cain.

There was a whole harbour at the back of Castle Cain, a sprawling metropolis of ships in all different sizes. The largest was an enormous galleon with mortars, dozens of cannons and a main mast that was almost as tall as Castle Cain. The smallest was a thin, sleek, streamlined vessel that bobbed gently in the water. And there a dozen ships of all sizes in between, some with crews on board and all armed to the teeth with cannons. Each one hung from its mast a black flag bearing a white skull with a triangular goatee beard and a battered, wide-brimmed hat.

“Mercuria,” Admiral Percival Cain said proudly. “I present to you The Privateer’s Armada.”

“I...” Mercuria was stunned. “How... how did you afford all these ships?”

“I climbed the ladder,” Cain explained simply. “You see that vessel there?” Cain pointed to the smallest ship, the sleek and streamlined one. “When I first became a pirate captain I began with a ship named The Unknown Tomorrow, but it was in that vessel there that my piracy career truly began. That ship is The Songbird. The fastest ship in the world. With that ship I became the terror of the high seas, the scourge of any vessel with loot to be plundered. In a mere two years I had acquired enough wealth to create what you see before you. A castle. An army. A whole fleet of ships. Thanks to that small, unassuming ship I have become one of the wealthiest men in all Ferelden, perhaps all of Thedas.”

“Alongside Stanzel Haines,” Mercuria commented.

“Yes,” Cain said disdainfully. “Alongside Stanzel Haines. But he could never possess what I have. Every vessel in this harbour represents my power and fortune. It began with The Songbird. And now I have all of this.” He pointed out each ship, naming them as he went along. “The Horn. The Lion. The Foxglove. The Jackal. The Ocean Hound. The Adderhead. The Empirical. The Red Pendennis. The Valiant. The Desolation. The Oaken Calypso. The Shipwreck’s Rise. And,” Cain said, pointed proudly at the largest ship. “Of course, we have the most powerful ship on all waters. My final prize, my greatest victory. The Draconian Fury. Coincidentally once owned by the man I stole The Songbird from. A true full circle, all things considered.”

Mercuria was in awe of the vast fleet Percival Cain commanded. She had completely underestimated his wealth and power. Looking once again into those hypnotic yellow eyes of his, Mercuria found herself realising what a truly incredible man he was.

“Mercuria, my darling,” Cain said softly. “You seem to like what you see.”

“It’s incredible,” Mercuria said, not breaking his gaze. “To have built all this...”

“It seems we are both two incredible people then, my dear,” Cain said with a soft smile. “It is truly appalling that you allow that beast Shokrakar to lead you. You should be leading the Valo-Kas. Under you they could do the most amazing things, accomplish so much...”

Mercuria found herself nodding in agreement, still staring into Cain’s eyes. She found herself drawing closer to him, under his hypnotic spell, her lips coming closer and closer to his...

Their lips met, just for the briefest of seconds...

“I... wait!” Mercuria pulled away, shaking her head. What had she been doing? She... she had almost kissed him! By the Qun... “Admiral Cain,” Mercuria shook her head. “I am so sorry. I... I should be going.”

Mercuria dashed off, wiping her brow and blushing bright red. Percival Cain didn’t go after her. He simply leant against the balcony, sipping his drink and smiling to himself.

It was all coming together beautifully.


	6. Blood Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival Cain has dispatched the Blades of the Valo-Kas to another bandit keep, where Shokrakar finds that her blood rage is far more dangerous than she realises

Percival Cain stood facing the window, his bright yellow eyes staring out at the horizon from beneath the brim of his hat. He took a sip of whiskey from the crystal glass he held in his hand before placing it down on the table next to him. He mused for a second, pausing for effect, before making a theatrical turn to face behind him. Zarael stood there dutifully, awaiting his commands, her posture perfect and her demeanour spotless. Soris, in contrast, lounged in Cain’s leather armchair before him smoking his rancid pipe and twirling his hair. The foolish man was so arrogant. He truly believed he held all the cards, that he was the one in control. Fool. No-one held power over Percival Cain. No-one else stood in centre stage, basking in the limelight, the captive audience dancing to their tune. That place was reserved for him alone.

Cain slowly circled the chair Soris sat in before placing his hands on the back and leaning forward, ignoring the acrid stench from the elf’s pipe, and forcing Soris to turn and look at him. Such a simple, small victory. But it won him back control instantly. All the world was a stage, and he was the master of the art.

“I trust you have kept to the task you were charged with?” Cain asked, not looking down at Soris.

The elf huffed and took another drag from his pipe. “Of course, Cain,” Soris sighed. “Enough with the theatrics. I’ve been spreading the rumour that the Valo-Kas are Qunari, just like you asked. As long as the coin keeps coming, I’ll keep talking. Still not telling me why?”

“Not your business,” Cain said simply, gliding away from Soris’ chair and back towards the window. He picked up his whiskey and took another measured sip, glancing at Soris over the rim of the glass. “You’ve done your bit, elf. I trust our business is concluded for now?”

“I have no further inquiries,” Soris said mockingly, blowing a cloud of smoke towards an indignant Zarael before rising from his chair. “I’ll show myself out.”

And with that, Soris left.

“I do detest that little rodent,” Zarael said, attempting to bat away the cloud of smoke Soris had left as she took her place beside Cain, staring out of the window. “Are you sure business with him is entirely necessary?”

“It is,” Cain said. “It’s useful to have a high-ranking contact in the land-based criminal underworld. But once the plan is complete and Stanzel Haines is ruined my enterprises will eclipse the entire piracy market south of Seheron. Dealing with runts such as Soris will be a thing of the past. The Divine herself will be queuing to do business with me.”

Percival Cain downed his whiskey and placed the glass on the table next to him. He didn’t even like whiskey. He didn’t even like drinking. It was just a useful prop. Appearance was everything in the world. Image could decide glory and death when it came to it.

Percival Cain was used to taking his curtain call before an crowd of criminal, pirates and reprobates.  But soon, thanks to Kadmund Dravin and the Valo-Kas, his audience would be the entire world.

***

The Valo-Kas made their way across the Southron Hills, Mercuria making the uncharacteristically bold decision to stand by Shokrakar at the forefront of the group, giving the impression of a high leadership rank. Something that made Shokrakar very uncomfortable, especially as most of the Valo-Kas hadn’t batted an eyelid. Derevar had remained quiet, as cautious as ever, waiting to see which way the tide would turn.

Mercuria’s sudden burst in confidence wasn’t the only one to occur in the group, Shokrakar noted, and was also not the only one to negatively affect her. Logger, still bitter about the duel Kraegor Tok had forced them into, had upped his anti-Shokrakar agenda. He now criticised her leadership openly, in front of the men. Spoke of her violence, her apparent carelessness, her lack of self control. He was right about her, she knew that. But if he thought he could do a better job he should damn well challenge her.

Maybe that was what Mercuria was planning. Maybe all the fawning from Cain had given her grand ideas, and she was positioning herself for a leadership challenge. Shokrakar would like to see her try. Mercuria was too nice. She could lead a legitimate army, she might make a good Grey Warden or General, but a Qun-lover like her lead a ragtag band of vashoth and Tal-Vashoth thugs? No chance. However, with Logger spouting his vitriol to anyone who’d listen, maybe people would start to see Mercuria as a preferable option.

Who could she rely on for support? Taarlok? Perhaps. She’d once been a lover of Shokrakar’s, a long time ago, before they’d created the group together. Did that still count for anything? Or did Taarlok secretly resent Shokrakar for sidelining her as second-in-command in favour of Derevar?

Derevar. That was a variable Shokrakar hadn’t considered. If anyone should be leading the Valo-Kas it shouldn’t be Shokrakar, Mercuria or Logger. It should be him. He was strong, brave, reliable and trustworthy. The perfect leader. His support could very well tip the balance. Would he stay loyal to Shokrakar? Or would he side with his lover Mercuria? Would he make his own leadership bid? Or perhaps stay out of it entirely? All were equally possible.

In her head, Shokrakar cursed Percival Cain. None of this tension had existed before he’d shown up in their lives.

“The bandit keep is up ahead,” Derevar said, gazing into the distance at a moderately-sized fort with a wooden wall. “This one shouldn’t be much of a problem.”

“Good,” Shokrakar said. “I suggest we commit our full force to breaking down the wall before we charge in and decimate them all. Should be a quick, easy job.”

“Maybe there’s a better way.”

Shokrakar turned, her lips pursed and fists clenched, to see Mercuria standing there with her hand raised.

“Oh really?” Shokrakar challenged, puffing out her chest. “What would that be, _ma’am_?” Her final words dripped with sarcasm.

“It’s just a suggestion,” Mercuria said boldly. “But perhaps my magic could be of use? Your plan sounds like a risky one. I suggest I launch some fireballs at the fort, set it and the walls alight, and force the bandits to evacuate via the front gate. As they leave we slay them before sending a team in to flush out any survivors.”

The whole group was tense. Mercuria may not have realised it but she’d openly challenged Shokrakar’s leadership. No-one said a word until Logger spoke up.

“The plan is sound,” Logger said. “I say we do things her way.”

Shokrakar stared in horror as nods and murmurs of agreement rippled through the ranks. She looked at Derevar for help but he sheepishly avoided her gaze.

“Fine!” Shokrakar barked, bringing everyone’s attention back to her. “I, your leader, have reviewed the plan and decided that we should have Mercuria torch the fortress to flush them out. Any questions?”

No-one was brave enough to raise their voice, but Shokrakar felt herself seething at the triumphant look on Logger’s face.

“Mercuria,” Shokrakar said venomously. “Attack.”

Mercuria strode forward, her hands alight with flame, and she splayed her palms out to the heavens. She launched a stream of flame which flew into the sky and fell down in the form of orbs of fire upon the distant bandit fortress. The keep immediately caught alight.

“Men!” Shokrakar cried. “Charge!”

***

Shokrakar strode forward, toting her axe, mercilessly cutting down every bandit that scampered out of the burning fortress. The other Valo-Kas hung behind her. When she was in a mood as foul as this they knew to keep out of her way and not, as she put it, ‘steal her kills’.

“Listen up!” Shokrakar roared at her men. “I’m going in to flush out whatever rats haven’t deserted this hole yet! Logger, Kaariss, with me!”

Logger strode forward, his battleaxe drawn, eager to demonstrate his strength. Kaariss tiptoed forward nervously, recoiling from the flames as he drew his twin daggers. He dropped one of them, which landed in a muddy puddle, and he stared forlorn at it before picking it up.

“We’re going in,” Shokrakar seethed through gritted teeth. “And we’re not coming out until they’re all dead.”

***

Shokrakar strode through the flame, the smoke and the death, the sweat on her rippling muscles making them gleam. She saw a wounded bandit stumbled out of a collapsed building and she cut him down. Scanning the area with narrowed eyes she saw an intact-looking building, one nearly untouched by the flames. She marched towards it and kicked down the door.

As she stormed into the building, Shokrakar caught sight of a bandit standing before a gaggle of timid servants. The bandit snarled and drew his blade, lunging at Shokrakar, but it was an easily dodged blow. Shokrakar attacked but the bandit was faster than she’d expected and he ran rings around her as she swung her axe violently around the building as the servants huddled and cowered.

Shokrakar felt her frustration turn into fury as the bandit repeatedly dodged her attacks. She hissed and snarled as the bandit ducked and dived. Finally, the bandit had decided he’d had enough games and jabbed at her with his blade. The blade pierced the skin of Shokrakar’s leg and stung badly, but it wasn’t a strong enough blow to do real damage.

That, however, had been the final straw.

Shokrakar howled and roared as she gave in to the blood rage, tossed aside her battleaxe and lunging at the bandit. She grabbed the blade of his sword with her bare hands and, staring the hapless bandit in the face while she did so, squeezed and bent the blade. She revelled the blood streaming from her lacerated palm, grinning madly as the bandit dropped his ruined sword. She then scooped up the bandit with one arm, lifted him into the air and snapped his spine over her knee. She then tossed the limp bandit aside and picked up her battleaxe once again.

It wasn’t enough. She needed more.

Shokrakar turned and stared, with a mad glint in her eye, at the cowering servants before her.

***

Mercuria strode around the keep, blasting jets of ice from her palms to douse the flames.

“Shokrakar!” Derevar cried as the other Valo-Kas dug under the ruins and rubble of the keep. “Shokrakar! Where are you?”

When Kaariss and Logger had returned from the keep without Shokrakar, Derevar had immediately dashed in to rescue her. Mercuria had followed him in and, once she had started dousing the flames, the other Valo-Kas had joined them. Mercuria just prayed that Shokrakar was alright.

“Over here!”

Logger was gesturing to a small building that was relatively untouched by the fire, with the door torn from its hinges. Shokrakar’s work? Mercuria dashed over to find out as Logger ducked inside the building.

“Oh sweet Maker...” Logger uttered hopelessly. “By the Qun...”

Mercuria recoiled and gasped as she entered the building and saw what Logger had seen.

Shokrakar knelt in a pile of blood and gore. The walls were splattered with blood, severed heads lay everywhere and the floor was littered with a dozen corpses. Mercuria felt like she was going to throw up. Almost all of the corpses, she noticed, wore simple rags and had no weapons. They had been civilians. And Shokrakar just knelt amidst their bodies, breathing heavily and covered in their blood.

“You,” Logger said threateningly. “Have a lot of explaining to do.”


	7. Eclipse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his lieutenant slain and his fortresses falling to a Qunari threat, Kadmund Dravin must seek outside help to vanquish his new enemies

The plates of Kadmund Dravin’s thick metal armour ground together as he strode up to his throne, the clangs and rattles echoing through the walls of his fortress. His armour clattered as he sat down upon his huge stone throne atop the flight of stairs, glaring from behind the visor of his horned helmet at his men.

“Send in my guest,” Dravin boomed.

Slowly, the large wooden doors of the throne room creaked open and a man strode in. He was a slim man, human, with pale skin and lank, jet-black hair that limped down to his shoulders and matched in colour the leather armour he wore, from the armour set itself to the two black sheaths slung over his back that carried two short, wide-bladed daggers.

The man knelt before Kadmund Dravin before looking up at the Bandit King with eyes as black as coal.

“Donovan Cross, your greatness,” the man said with a cunning smile. “Here to serve.”

“Donovan Cross,” Kadmund Dravin echoed. “You are Guildmaster of the Fereldan Antivan Crow cell, are you not?”

“I do command Eclipse Cell, correct,” Cross confirmed. “Our organisation has recovered since it was wiped out during the Ferelden Civil War, and we operate better than ever before. No target is out of reach for the Eclipse Cell, Messere Dravin. A quality reflected, of course, by our price.”

“I have a target for you, assassin,” Dravin informed him. “Rather, several targets. You have heard of the Qunari cell active in Ferelden, have you not?”

“Who hasn’t?” Cross replied. “All of Ferelden has heard the news. The company of Qunari warriors, lead by an unchained Saarebas painted in white and red, carving a path of blood and fire through the Southron Hills. The blood of your men, I hear.”

“It is true,” Dravin confessed. “I have little idea why I have irked the Qunari, but their agents seem to be waging war on me. I have little time to find out why, so I think it would be best if I discover the truth by looting their corpses.”

Dravin reached into a chest beside him and pulled out two items: a map and a purse. He tossed both to Donovan Cross.

“My scouts have seen the Qunari regularly travelling to and from a castle by the coast of Gwaren,” Dravin informed the assassin. “I want you to watch that castle for the Qunari to arrive there, and then you and every man you can spare to go there and kill everyone in that castle. Every last soul. Understood?”

Cross examined the map and the point marked on it closely, frowned at the location he was given.

“I know this castle,” Cross said curiously. “It’s owned by Percival Cain.”

“I believe him to be collaborating with the Qunari in order to take me down,” Dravin declared. “Kill him too, and his snow-white knife-eared assistant.”

“Percival Cain regularly does business with Eclipse Cell,” Cross warned Dravin. “I may have to discuss this matter with our head office in Antiva.”

“‘The Pirate King’ Percival Cain will soon be a thing of the past,” Dravin insisted. “Another will take his place. Someone like, perhaps... Stanzel Haines?”

Cross’ interest was piqued. “Interesting...” Cross mused. “Fine. Kadmund Dravin, we have a deal. Percival Cain and the Qunari will die by the blades of the Antivan Crows.”


	8. Raising Cain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Valo-Kas celebrate their latest victory while admonishing Shokrakar for her actions, all completely unaware of the threat that has come to Castle Cain in search of them

Castle Cain was dark, the Valo-Kas enjoying the celebrations by candlelight. They may never forget the horrors they’d seen in the keep, but most of them were happy to ignore those memories when Zarael came around with a tray of flagons full of mead.

Derevar examined the room with a furrowed brow as he pretended to sip his drink. Zarael was standing coldly away from the festivities, clearly hoping to escape attention. Shokrakar was sitting on a barrel in the corner, alone. No-one had spoken to her since the incident. Perhaps they never would again. Perhaps this truly was the end for her. Jethro too was sitting on a crate, but his exile was not self-imposed. The bumbling manservant had spilt a drink over Mercuria so Cain had sent him to the naughty step.

As for Percival Cain himself, Derevar hid his surprise when he saw the Pirate King chatting with Logger. Cain had carefully stage-managed the conversation: they were stood by a small table, perfectly in public view, so not so appear suspicious. The table, however, was adorned with currently untouched pitchers of water which would likely not be sniffed at for the duration of the night. Clever, Derevar thought, sipping his mead.

Mercuria was drinking happily with the rest of the men, the centre of attention. As was the norm these days, it seemed. All of the troops bar Shokrakar, Derevar and Hadraada, who had already headed off to bed, were cheering and singing praise of her, the great Saarebas who’d brought them victory. She was now leader in all but name. Derevar supposed he should be pleased at her.

But all he could see in their new leader were the strings bound to her, strings being pulled by a shadowy figure with bright yellow eyes.

***

Donovan Cross dropped down from the rafters in an empty wing of Castle Cain, pulling up his hood and drawing his twin daggers. All across the castle Eclipse Cell was infiltrating the building and making their way through the halls. The orders were clear: execute every Qunari they encountered before meeting up in the main hall and accounting for all their kills. If the numbers added up then they could go home. If not, they looked again. Cross himself, backed up by his three best men, was going for Percival Cain. The man was a simple information broker turned pirate but Cross had heard... things... about Percival Cain. He wasn’t going to take any risks.

Cross froze as he saw a shadow pass over the hallway, ducking behind a pillar as a large and grizzled Qunari stumbled along. The beast was clearly drunk. Odd. Cross was surprised The Qun allowed such things. Regardless, it made him an easier target, so when the Qunari came within range Donovan Cross lunged out from behind the pillar and skewered the horned giant with his twin daggers. The Qunari’s eyes widened in shock; a gasped escape his thick-lipped mouth, and he slowly collapsed to the floor and died.

Cross stowed the body behind the pillar and clambered up the wall, using the grooves between the bricks as foot and handholds. He wouldn’t be taking any more risks. But still, one Qunari down.

***

“I’m leaving The Blades of the Valo-Kas.”

A gasp rippled across the room as Logger made his declaration, standing boldly before the others. Pints of mead were instantly forgotten about, roast chicken legs were dropped, cheers fell silent. All eyes were fixed on Logger. All except Derevar’s, of course, which were glaring intently at the grinning Percival Cain who stood behind the crowd-capturing Qunari.

“I have spent many years fighting with this company,” Logger continued, a note of sorrow in his voice. “And they have been rewarding, in more than just wealth. But I have begun to have concerns about the... quality of leadership within the group.”

Nobody missed this obvious assignment of blame, and the name ‘Shokrakar’ was muttered among the ranks.

“Admiral Cain has agreed to pay me what I’m owed for my work thus far,” Logger said. “I now consider my business with him and the Valo-Kas done. I wish to thank you all for the companionship, brotherhood and success I’ve found in these past few years, and hope that someday you can turn this company back to its former glory under... a new direction.”

Only Derevar was resistant enough to the shock of the speech to realise whose words they really were. But it didn’t matter. Logger declared that he needed to pack, and then headed off without another word.

“Logger, wait!” hissed Derevar as the other Valo-Kas sombrely returned to their drinks. He grabbed Logger’s arm, making the departing Qunari stop. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What the hell are you doing?” Logger countered, sneering down at Derevar. “I’m making the choice I always should have: to desert a sinking ship.”

“Why?” Derevar asked. “Why did Cain put you up to this? And I know he did. You’ve never liked Shokrakar’s fighting style, and I’ll admit her actions in the battle yesterday were over the line. But publicly denouncing her before leaving? Percival Cain set you up to do that. I saw you talking to him. I don’t know why, but he wants Shokrakar gone and replaced with Mercuria. He’s up to something, always has been.”

“Maybe he just wants to best possible men under his command,” Logger countered. “Lead by a competent leader instead of a ravaging animal. Percival Cain is a... an important man. He only accepts the best, and provides... the best in return.”

 Logger knew by Derevar’s sneer that he’d said too much.

“I’m ashamed of you, Logger,” Derevar spat. “I respected you, more than any other in this company. How much? How much did that pirate buy you for? What’s your price?”

“Passage,” Logger replied shamefully. “A ship to Seheron.”

“Seheron?” Derevar exclaimed. “Why in Andraste’s name would anyone want to go to Seheron?”

“Because it’s my destiny!” Logger declared. “I’ve always talked about it. Uniting the Tal-Vashoth there under one single banner, turning the whole island into an independent Tal-Vashoth state. A home for our kind. That’s more than worth sacrificing Shokrakar for. She’s a disgrace to our people. Animals like her are everything the Qunari say we become without The Qun. She’s an insult to the name Tal-Vashoth.”

And with that, Logger turned and left.

“To hell with this,” Derevar cursed. “To hell with him, and to hell with Percival Cain.”

Clenching his fist and gritting his teeth, Derevar stormed off to his room.

***

Derevar felt sick in his stomach as he made his way through the halls of Castle Cain, wiping the sweat from his brow. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad thing, being lead by Mercuria. He knew and loved her, and he was sure she was leadership material. But it still didn’t feel right. Mercuria hadn’t taken lead all by herself. She’d been persuaded and tempted in equal measure to take the reins. She’d barely even made an attempt at leadership, Derevar realised. Shokrakar had been brought down, and Percival Cain had already placed Mercuria on a pedestal in the prime position to replace her. This was his dirty work.

Passing through the corridor, Derevar felt himself almost slip as he walked through a puddle. Cursing and steadying himself on a nearby pillar, Derevar looked down at what he’d stepped it. It certainly wasn’t water. It was thicker, and stickier. And redder.

Derevar looked at the large shape leant up against the pillar and stumbled backwards, clutching his chest as the shock knocked the air from his lungs.

It was Hadraada.

Dead.

Derevar examined the body. Two stab wounds in the chest, matching exit wounds in his back. He’d been impaled on two wide-bladed daggers. And there was no sign of a killer.

Derevar drew his sword. He didn’t know what was going on, but he knew one thing: if this person, or these people, had killed Hadraada, then all the Valo-Kas were in danger. And if the Valo-Kas were in danger then Mercuria was too.

And he wasn’t about to let anyone hurt her.

***

After the departure of Logger, Percival Cain had left the main hall to attend to some ‘business’ in his office. The festivities had continued without him, Logger or Derevar present. Shokrakar had hidden in the corner, refusing to meet anyone’s eye. Jethro had remained on his naughty step. Zarael continued to seethe at the brutish mercenaries. Mercuria had continued celebrating their victory, though with a tinge of worry about Derevar’s absence.

And then they’d attacked.

Figures in black leather, faces covered in hoods the colour of night, had swooped down from the rafters. They’d burst through the one closed door. They’d dived in through the open one. They’d attacked with blades, with quarterstaffs, with bows.

Jethro had been the first to react, promptly screaming and falling off his crate. Next had been Shokrakar, whose mind had not been dulled by drink, who’d leapt up and punched one of the attackers aside. Slowly, the Valo-Kas had taken up arms to attack, but it had all been too late.

Mercuria raised her staff just in time to block one of the assassin’s strikes, but her reactions were sluggish and she found herself being driven back. She saw Sataa struck down, she saw Ashaad Two knocked out when he tried to help, she felt herself backing further and further away from her attacker and closer to the wall. Once she reached it there’d be no escape.

“Jethro to the rescue!” Jethro cried, valiantly springing to his feet and charging into the fray. He immediately slipped on some spilt mead and knocked himself out as he hit the floor.

Mercuria stared in despair as the black-clad attackers quickly overpowered the Valo-Kas. She had no idea who these people were, or why they wanted to kill them. She wasn’t even thinking about that. Only one thought was going through her mind.

_Derevar!_

_Where are you?_

***

Percival Cain knew that Donovan Cross was there long before he and his men dropped down from the ceiling and drew their blades.

“Donovan!” Percival Cain said, smiling warmly as he spun around to face the assassin. “My old friend. Still skulking around in rafters, I see?”

“I’m in no mood for theatrics tonight, Cain,” Cross replied coldly. “Draw your blade and let’s get this over with.”

“Really?” Cain said, looking with mock concern at the five Antivan Crows who flanked Cross. “Six men, just to kill me?” Cain pushed back his green leather duster coat to reveal a long, thin rapier sword. He drew it with a flourish. “I’m honoured.”

“I’m not taking any risk with you, Cain,” Cross said warily, and the Pirate King and assassin team began to slowly circle each other. “I’ve heard the tales about you. How you move faster than the eye can blink. How you can sense every move your opponent will make, a split second before they do it. If it takes six Antivan Crows to slay you then so be it.”

“My, Donovan, I am insulted,” Cain said cockily. “You look at the man with yellow eyes and assume him to be some kind of monster. The truth is I am merely an ordinary man who has clawed his way from the bottom of the pile and won’t stop climbing until I reach the top.”

Cain took a step forwards, twirling his sword lazily in one hand, and the assassins took a nervous step back.

“I am a man of common birth,” Cain continued. “My mother was a barmaid. My uncle, a bartender. My father disappeared after I was conceived, so that pair raised me. I worked as a smuggler. Then as an information broker. Then as a pirate captain. Now, I am the man you see before you. Admiral Percival Cain. And I’m just getting started.”

“Enough prattle,” Cross hissed. “Let’s get this over with.”

Cross’ men attacked all at once. Five highly-trained Antivan Crows, among the best killers in all Thedas, trained to murder kings and warlords and sorcerers alike.

It took Percival Cain a mere two seconds to cut them all down.

Donovan Cross began to back away from Cain as the bodies of his men struck the floor, the last of their fallen blades clattering to the ground. Percival Cain strode towards him, his sword hanging loosely by his side.

“Tell me who sent you, Donovan.” Cain said dangerously. “Stanzel Haines? The Fereldan Crown? Was it... _her_?”

“No!” Cross said, the hands in which he held his daggers shaking. “It was Dravin! Kadmund Dravin! He bought the whole of Eclipse Cell to slaughter you and your Qunari!” Cross grinned. “The rest of my men should be slaughtering your horned pets as we speak.”

In one final act of defiance, Donovan Cross lunged at Cain with his twin daggers. Cain simply ducked the blow and effortlessly, with the grace of a dancer, brought himself back up and thrust his blade through Cross’ abdomen. The blade passed through Cross’ torso and left the other side slick with blood, impaling the assassin. Percival Cain then withdrew the blade and allowed the corpse of Donovan Cross to fall to the floor.

Cain wiped his blade clean on a handkerchief, sheathed it and straightened his wide-brimmed hat. It had been knocked off-centre during the fight. Those Crows must have been better than he’d expected.

***

Mercuria closed her eyes as the assassin backed her towards the wall, preparing for the end-

Instead, all she saw was a bright flash.

As she opened her eyes, Mercuria saw the assassin lying dead at her feet with a smoking hole in his back.

Zarael stood across the room, her palm outstretched, smoke gently wafting from her hand.

The white-skinned elf steeled herself and begun her attack.

Zarael hurled bolts of lightning across the room, each striking down an assassin with a clap of thunder. One assassin had a hole blown clean into his chest. Another had his head burst like a melon. Zarael poured streams of lightning over a gang of assailants, reducing them all to dust. And finally, when the last assassin was dead, the lightning coursing all over her body faded and the fury in her eyes dimmed, replaced once again by that cold and calculating glare.

“You,” Zarael commanded Mercuria strictly, as if nothing had happened. “Check on your wounded. Admiral Cain must hear of this.”

Percival Cain strode into the room at the same time Derevar burst into it.

“Derevar!” Mercuria cried, running over to kiss and embrace her lover.

“Any casualties?” Cain said, uncaringly, as he went to stand by Zarael. “I see you had to ‘let rip’ there, my darling. Did it feel good?”

“Exhilarating,” Zarael admitted. “I rather must say, keeping my magic a secret from these oafish brutes has been rather irritating. As for casualties, there’s nothing serious. One Qunari was knocked unconscious and another has easily treatable wounds. Jethro also suffered a head wound, but it is to be expected if he leaves the naughty step prematurely. I trust you suffered no wounds, Admiral?”

“Donovan Cross and his best offered little challenge,” Cain said dryly. “It seems our friend Kadmund Dravin hired them to kill me. Fool. It will make his death all the sweeter, when it finally comes.”

“We lost a man,” Derevar declared to the room, interrupting Cain’s conversation and turning the heads of the Valo-Kas. “Hadraada was killed by these assassins. I found his body.”

A silence passed over the room as the Qunari hung their heads.

“Hadraada is dead!”

All heads turned to see Logger burst into the room, a frantic look on his face before he stopped to see the signs of battle.

“Yes,” Shokrakar said coldly. “And the rest of us nearly shared his fate. Perhaps having an extra man on our side would have helped.”

Had anyone but Shokrakar said this, the statement would have been met with murmurs of agreement. Instead, the room was silent and cold. A hostile mood flickered through the ranks. Slowly, bashfully, Logger turned away and went back to his room to continue packing.

“Your ‘Hadraada’ must have been a brave man,” Percival Cain declared, striding forwards to address the Valo-Kas, stepping over a concussed Jethro as he did so. “Funeral preparations will be made in due course. Try and shake tonight’s events from your mind, however. For tomorrow, you avenge Hadraada! Tomorrow is the day you kill Kadmund Dravin!”

This news sent a ripple of excitement through the ranks, but failed to relight the spark within the mercenaries. Cain hadn’t expected it to. But, as the Valo-Kas returned to their beds, Cain couldn’t help but smile. He noticed how Mercuria had left the room first, and the others had followed her lead. He’d noticed Shokrakar trailing at the back of the group. And what he’d said was partially true: they would be striking the fortress of Kadmund Dravin himself.

It was all falling into place.


	9. Torn Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After saying goodbye to Logger and mourning the death of Hadraada, the Valo-Kas settle their leadership issues before setting out to finish what they started with Kadmund Dravin

The Valo-Kas watched sadly from the windows of Castle Cain as Logger mounted the large steed he’d bought from Cain. He would ride to Amaranthine where he would catch a ship to Rivain before making his own way to Seheron. They would never see him again. Some had hoped that he would stay after the death of Hadraada, and the attack by Eclipse Cell. But Logger was determined: he would not back down, he would not serve under Shokrakar any longer.

Percival Cain and Zarael stared at the large Qunari from a lower set of windows as he mounted his horse and rode off along the dusty road.

“Has the messenger been sent?” Zarael asked.

“He has,” Cain confirmed. “All is in place. The penultimate step.”

The pirate admiral and his elven assistant smiled, staring out of the window at the figure in the distance who was riding down the path off to the horizon.

***

The Valo-Kas stood on the grounds of Castle Cain, staring solemnly at the pyre that had been lit for Hadraada.

Mercuria looked disdainfully at the pyre, ashamed of herself for what she was thinking. Hadraada deserved a decent funeral... didn’t he?

It wasn’t the Qunari way.

Mercuria gently raised a hand to touch her face, lightly stroking the red and white Vitaar that adorned it. She looked at her shoulder, and the Qun symbol that adorned her pauldrons. She looked at the Antaam-saar she wore, and found herself questioning everything she’d ever believed.

Was this who she really was?

Was she truly a Qunari, or merely a foolish bas-saarebas playing at being one?

Mercuria stood there for a while, staring as blankly as the others. The only sounds were the crackling of the flames as they devoured Hadraada’s body, and the soft sound of Kaariss’ slender fingers dancing on his lute. She considered saying a few words before cursing herself for her arrogance. There were few acts more tasteless than making a friend’s funeral about you.

No-one said anything as the flames eventually died down and left nothing but a smouldering pile of ash and soot.

“Hadraada will be avenged,” someone muttered under their breath.

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd, murmurs that soon became whispers, whispers that became declarations that became louder and louder until they were shouts and cries and cheers.

“We know where Kadmund Dravin is!” Meraad cried. “One last battle! Let’s finish this contract, kill Dravin, avenge Hadraada and collect our bounty!”

The Valo-Kas cheered in response, baying for Dravin’s blood and the final bounty in equal measure. The cheers echoed throughout the grounds until the cacophony was broken by the single sound of a man clearing his throat.

It was Derevar.

Derevar, now with all eyes on him, looked at the Valo-Kas with a stern look in his eyes.

“What Meraad says is true,” Derevar told the mercenaries. “There is one final stage of our employment for Admiral Cain left to complete. Once we conquer the final bandit fortress, Vulcan Keep, we will find within its walls our final target. Kadmund Dravin. Then we will kill him, and we will finish the job we were hired for, and we will collect our pay. And we will avenge Hadraada. But there is one matter that needs resolving.”

Derevar hung his head slightly, and only Mercuria noticed the bitterness in his tone.

“We need a leader,” Derevar declared. “Throughout the course of this contract some among you have had... doubts about Shokrakar’s leadership. We cannot possibly hope to take down a man such as Dravin, or continue as a company, without a clear leader to follow. So I suggest we put the matter to a vote.”

Shokrakar stepped forward, clearly nervous, but full of defiant pride.

“I have lead you all this far,” Shokrakar said simply. “Who will follow me further?”

Only Taarlok raised her hand, which was shaking all the way. She would not meet Shokrakar’s gaze, however, nor the gaze of any other, and she seemed more relieved to then take her hand down than she ever had to raise it.

“One vote for Shokrakar,” Derevar said, his voice hollow. Perhaps had he raised his hand, more would have followed. But perhaps not. He cursed himself silently for his foolishness.

“So it is decided,” Shokrakar said, her voice flat and as hollow as Derevar’s. “If I am not to lead you, then who will? Who considers themselves worthy to lead these men in my place?”

Slowly, but boldly, Mercuria raised her hand.

“All in favour of Mercuria to lead us?” Derevar said, pursing his lips.

All the Valo-Kas raised their hands, Taarlok included. Upon seeing the show of hands, Shokrakar raised hers with them. Of all the Valo-Kas, Derevar was the only one whose hand had not been raised once.

“So let it be,” Derevar said. “Mercuria Adaar, you are the new leader of The Blades of the Valo-Kas.”

“I am proud to lead these men,” Mercuria said resolutely, looking at the vashoth and Tal-Vashoth before her with pride. “For my first act as leader, I would like to confirmed that Derevar will retain his position as second-in-command.”

This announcement was met with smiles and murmurs of agreement. Derevar was quietly relieved.

“And for my second act,” Mercuria smiled cunningly. “We’re going to Vulcan Keep and tearing Kadmund Dravin limb-from-limb, before heading back to Castle Cain for a huge sack of gold!”

The Valo-Kas whooped and cheered, raising their weapons and punching the air. The mercenaries then sheathed their weapons, grabbed their packs and prepared for the journey.

As the mercenaries prepared, Mercuria strode seductively towards Derevar. She stroked his face lightly and kissed him.

“The power couple running the gang of violent vashoth and Tal-Vashoth,” Mercuria purred. “What will the bards say?”

“They’ll be singing of us for centuries,” Derevar said, successfully hiding his lack of enthusiasm. He and Mercuria kissed once more before parting.

As Mercuria headed off to speak with the men, Derevar stared at her. He should be proud to see the woman he loved achieve something like this. But as he stared at the black flag that flew over Castle Cain, at the heraldry of a goateed skull in a battered hat, all he could feel was dread.

***

Kadmund Dravin sat upon his throne and stared down at the red-haired elf who stood below him smoking a rancid pipe and fiddling with the ugly, stubby rings upon his pale fingers.

“What,” Dravin said, his voice echoing through the throne room. “Did you say your name was?”

“Soris, sir,” the elf bowed dramatically, grinning at Dravin with yellow teeth. “At your service.”

“Ah yes,” Dravin said. “The whispermonger from Denerim. Tell me, for what do you disturb me, little elf?”

“A warning, your greatness,” Soris grovelled. “For a price, of course.”

Dravin mused for a moment before nodding to the bandit guard to his left. The bandit opened a large chest next to his master’s throne and took out a large bag of gold that he threw at Soris’ feet. As the bag landed at the information broker’s feet Soris leapt on it, opening it and greedily counting each sovereign.

“The information, elf,” Dravin said threateningly as Soris’ eyes glinted with greed. “Or I will have your head for wasting my time and befouling my coin.”

“Yes, Messere Dravin, sir,” Soris simpered, closing the gold sack and getting to his feet. “You are aware of the Qunari agents dispatched to Ferelden, who have been destroying your forts and killing your men?”

“I am aware,” Dravin said simply. “And have dispatched people to handle the issue.”

“Donovan Cross is dead, Messere,” Soris replied. “The other Crows of Eclipse Cell with him. But not before they could slay one of the Qunari, however, and this has served to do little more than fill these fearsome warriors with a bloodthirsty vengeance. As we speak the Qunari are heading here, to Vulcan Keep, and seek to destroy you and massacre your men.”

“Interesting,” Dravin said, keeping the shock out of his voice. “This information is worth the gold given, elf. Take it, and my eternal thanks, and leave.”

Needing no further notice, Soris hung the sack of gold from his belt and sauntered away.

“Triple the guard,” Dravin ordered the bandit beside him. “And prepare my emergency escape route. The Qunari want me dead? They will find me a hard man to kill.”


	10. Claws of the Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Valo-Kas finally face Kadmund Dravin, and one of their number discovers Percival Cain's secret plan

Vulcan Keep was in few, just a few minutes away. None of the Valo-Kas could deny the might of the coastal fortress: three times the size of Castle Cain, with walls of solid stone adorned with sharp iron spikes and supporting watchtowers armed with ballistae. A truly formidable fort that no band of mercenaries, not even the Valo-Kas, could hope to conquer.

Not without help, anyway.

The Valo-Kas watched in awe as The Draconian Fury, the mightiest ship in Percival Cain’s pirate fleet, sailed towards the fortress from the ocean with its guns primed to deliver a devastating broadside barrage. The two smaller frigates that flanked the mighty dreadnaught, The Horn and The Foxglove, were drawing the fortress’s ballista fire to ensure the almighty flagship came to no harm. Slowly, the mighty pirate vessel came within range of Kadmund Dravin’s keep.

“Now this,” Mercuria said, awestruck. “Will be something to see.”

The barrage of cannon fire The Draconian Fury unleashed was like a punch from The Maker himself, a devastating blow of pure fire and iron that demolished half of the fortress in one attack. The Valo-Kas cheered and punched the air as half of Kadmund Dravin’s main keep crumbled to ash. The main building of the keep appeared unscathed, but the Valo-Kas now had a way in and likely minimal resistance. The pathway to Dravin would be clear.

“Makes you wonder why he needs us,” Ashaad One muttered as the group drew their weapons and charged towards the half-demolished fortress.

As the Valo-Kas charged towards the ruined fortress, Derevar replayed Ashaad One’s words in the back of his mind.

Why DID Cain need them?

Vulcan Keep was a coastal fortress. Cain boasted one of the largest private fleets in the entire world. Why were the Valo-Kas needed for this final step? Why were they needed at all? Admiral Cain, as he was so insistent on being called, commanded an army. An army of ragtag pirates and private guards, true, but if properly equipped they could have destroyed Kadmund Dravin and his entire organisation in one day.

Why did Cain hire the Valo-Kas in the first place?

And why the Valo-Kas? Logger had told them of Shokrakar’s fight with The Iron Bull. Why had the number of vashoth and Tal-Vashoth matter?

Derevar lost his train of thought as an arrow sailed past his head, narrowly avoiding killing him. A fireball from Mercuria struck the battlements of Vulcan Keep, exploding on impact and killing the dozen archers that were taking position on the battlements. Cain’s ships hadn’t fully razed the fortress, they’d just granted the mercenaries a way in.

The Valo-Kas reached the hole blasted into the wall for them, cutting now several wounded bandits as they entered the fortress. The group hurried along the corridors, looked nervously up at the cracked ceiling of the damaged fortress wing.

“We make this hard and fast,” Mercuria ordered. “Don’t stop moving, cut down anything in your way.”

The Valo-Kas obeyed their new leader, moving swiftly through the corridors. Resistance became thicker the further in they went, but the large group of trained warriors had little problem cutting them down. Nobody failed to notice Shokrakar’s efforts, hanging close by Mercuria and slaying any bandit who got too close. A fierce demonstration of newfound loyalty. The men may have turned on her in favour of Mercuria, but in this they found a new respect for her.

The Valo-Kas burst down a set of doors and entered what appeared to be a main hall, with only a few guards that were quickly slain. Most of the guards, they assumed, were attempting to contain the damage done to the fortress. It wouldn’t matter, Mercuria thought, as she looked towards the huge set of double doors at the other end of the hall. Once Kadmund Dravin was dead, they would be rich and victorious.

“Dravin is in there,” Mercuria whispered softly, just loud enough for her men to hear. “I can sense him. It’s time to end this.”

Mercuria Adaar strode forwards, The Blades of the Valo-Kas behind her, and blew the door open with a single telekinetic blast.

The band of mercenaries strode into the throne room, their weapons raised. Mercuria stood at their head, her Qunari Vitaar on her face, her blade-tipped staff gripped tightly in her hand and a magic energy coursing over her Qunari armour.

“Kadmund Dravin,” Mercuria declared to the man before them. “We are your end.”

Kadmund Dravin stood halfway down the flight of stairs leading to his throne, a huge figure encased within a shell of plate metal gazing at them from behind the dark, thin visor of his large, horned helmet. Not an inch of skin was visible. There was only the thing who stood before them, taller and broader in his solid metal armour than even Shokrakar, holding in his hand a huge pickaxe fashioned from a long shaft of metal topped with the claw of a dragon.

“You, little Qunari?” Kadmund Dravin said, his voice surprisingly soft and measured, but echoing harshly from within the mask of his helmet. He took a single step down the stairs, his metal boot clanging as he trod onto the stone step. “The beast-men of Par Vollen, sent to raze me and my people to the ground?” He twirled his weapons around in his hand. “So be it.”

“Whatever you’ve heard is wrong, bandit,” Mercuria said nervously as Dravin stepped towards the large group of heavily armed mercenaries with a disquieting confidence. “We’re simple mercenaries and we’ve been paid to kill you. It’s nothing personal. Use that to comfort you as we tear you apart.”

“Mercenaries?” Dravin said, a note of surprise in his tone. “That is not what my sources have been saying. That is not what Ferelden has been saying, every man and woman from the highest noble to the poorest pauper. They all speak of the roving band of Qunari that wander the Southron Hills laying waste to bandit fortresses. They say that the Ferelden crown leaves you alone, content to watch curiously as you decimate their enemies, but that they are waiting at a moment’s notice to deploy men to hunt you down and slay you all.”

If Mercuria had been unnerved by this mighty warrior who seemed undeterred by their presence, nothing unnerved her more than this news. People thought they were Qunari? That was ridiculous, unless...

Mercuria raised a hand to the red-and-white Vitaar that adorned her face.

Was it her?

Did... did people think that the Valo-Kas were Qunari, dangerous enemies of all in The Chantry’s domain... because of her?

Had she put her men in mortal danger?

“Enough words, bandit!” Ashaad Two cried. “Show us what you’re made of!”

“Very well,” Kadmund Dravin said, a sadistic smile in his voice. “I shall grant your final wish.”

Dravin attacked.

The Bandit King moved with shocking speed for one encased in such heavy armour and wielding so heavy a weapon. Before the Valo-Kas could even move he had tossed his dragonclaw axe straight at them, the hilt of which smashed into Hissra and Ashaad One and knocked them to the ground. Sataa lunged at Dravin but he simply scooped her up and, gripping her by the leg, swung her around and knocked Derevar, Ashaad Two and Meraad to the ground. As Dravin knocked Sataa out with a hefty punch he dived clear of a lung from Shokrakar, countering her attack with an uppercut that struck the Tal-Vashoth on the chin and sent her reeling back. Kaariss and Taarlok ran at Dravin but he grabbed their two heads and smashed them together, knocking them both out, before twisting around and grabbing a recovered Meraad and using the mercenary as a shield to block a jet of ice fired by Mercuria. As Meraad froze over Dravin tossed him aside and sprinted towards Mercuria, deflecting a lightning bolt she launched at him with his vambrace, and punched the mage right on the bridge of the nose. Mercuria’s nose shattered as she was knocked out cold.

Kadmund Dravin glared at the subdued mercenaries with pity.

“This is your best?!” Dravin roared. “This is the best the Valo-Kas have to offer? Weak! Pitiful!” Dravin beat his armoured chest with his gauntlet-encased hand, the sound echoing around the room. “None of you are worthy! Who among you dares try and face me again!”

“I will.”

Kadmund Dravin turned, grinning with amusement behind his visor, to see the largest and most muscular of the Valo-Kas had recovered and was ready to fight again. She wiped a trickle of blood from her mouth and clenched her fists.

“I may not lead these men any longer,” Shokrakar spat. “But they are and always will be my men. If you dare spill any more of their blood it will be done over my dead body.”

Kadmund Dravin stared with curiosity at the hulking, muscle-packed Tal-Vashoth warrior who stood before him, covered in blood and scars and ready to kill.

He saw the wounded old animal before him trying desperately to defend what was left of her pack.

She looked so small.

Kadmund Dravin said nothing, he simply lowered his head to angle his horned helmet at Shokrakar and charged. Shokrakar followed suit, charging straight at the armoured bandit, and there was a sickening thud of skull on metal as the two warriors headbutted and locked horns. Dravin and Shokrakar struggled against each other, hissing and frothing and shoving against each other. Finally, Dravin managed to lash out with his leg and trip Shokrakar up, punching her to the floor as she stumbled back. Shokrakar collapsed as her legs buckled beneath her and Kadmund Dravin’s gauntlet-encased fist came down on her again and again. As Dravin pulled his arm back for one finishing blow, Shokrakar used the brief recovery period to summon the will to grab Dravin’s fist before it struck her. Shokrakar pushed back against Dravin’s fist as she pulled herself up. The two warriors were deadlocked in a struggle against each other once again.

“Give in, Qunari,” Dravin hissed. “I am one man and I took down your entire company. There is no-one left to save you, fool.”

“They’re not my company any longer,” Shokrakar retorted. “But I would die for these men. But I’d kill for them first, and I don’t need much more reason to kill you.”

For all her bravado, Shokrakar felt herself slipping as Dravin pushed against her. She began to recall everything that had happened since she’d first heard about Cain’s contract. The fight with Iron Bull. Meeting Cain himself. The destruction of Fort Dominus and the death of Kraegor Tok. The massacre at the bandit keep. The Antivan Crow raid. Hadraada’s death. Logger’s desertion. Her ousting. None of that mattered. There was one thing she had to focus on, and that was pushing back against the metal-clad monster before her that kept shoving against her with all the force of a bronto.

That was until the grey shape charged into Dravin and knocked him aside.

Shokrakar stumbled forwards as Derevar leapt at Dravin, punching at the bandit’s visor and attempting to rip his helmet off. Derevar took too long, however, and Dravin was allowed to recover. The bandit grabbed Derevar and tossed him at Shokrakar, knocking the female Tal-Vashoth down. Derevar, however, managed to recover quickly and drew his sword to charge at Dravin. Derevar stabbed out at the bandit but Kadmund Dravin managed to grab Derevar’s sword arm, twist it, snatch the blade away and run Derevar through.

“NO!”

Shokrakar screamed as Dravin pulled out the blade and her loyal lieutenant fell to the floor, limp. Feeling the blood rage wash over her and embracing it fully, Shokrakar charged at Kadmund Dravin and smashed him full in the face with a right hook that shattered his visor and knocked his helmet clean off his head. Kadmund Dravin hit the floor, his splintered and battered helmet lying just a few feet away from him.

Shokrakar stood over Dravin, seething, and stared down at the face behind the mask. Dravin’s skin was very dark, and marred by small and ugly scars both old and new. Behind the scars, however, his was a fine and attractive face. Remarkably young, too. But Shokrakar registered these petty thoughts only in the back of her mind. All she saw was the weak, pathetic human being who hid behind a mask and was now revealed to the world.

“Please...” Dravin pleaded weakly. “I... I have gold. Lots of gold. Let me live... and I’ll grant you a fortune...”

Shokrakar said nothing. She simply raised her foot over Dravin’s skull, ready to stamp down and crush his head.

“Shokrakar!”

Shokrakar turned instinctively, seeing that Mercuria had picked herself up and was currently attempting to heal Derevar. Dravin took the advantage immediately and grabbed Shokrakar’s leg, yanking it and causing her to collapse. By the time she’d pulled herself up Kadmund Dravin had already run to the throne room door.

“Shokrakar!” Mercuria cried. There were tears streaming through her Vitaar and down her face as she poured healing magic into the wounded Derevar. “Please! You have to help him!”

Shokrakar glared at throne room door as Dravin disappeared through it. Then she cursed, pulled herself up and went over to help her men.

***

Derevar awoke in Castle Cain.

He was in his bed; the Valo-Kas were surrounding him, Percival Cain and Zarael with them. Mercuria was still pouring healing magic into him, but as soon as she saw his eyes flicker open she stopped and immediately pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Derevar,” Sataa said warmly as Mercuria let him go. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

“Shokrakar saved you,” Taarlok informed him. “She had to let Kadmund Dravin go after he wounded you, but she saved you. Saved all of us. Carried those of us who couldn’t walk out of the fortress and all the way to Castle Cain. She’s a true hero.”

Derevar looked to his left to see Shokrakar, who stood bashfully apart from the group, and smiled at her.

“Shokrakar, I... I couldn’t be more grateful, I...” Derevar then remembered what had happened. “What about the mission? What about Kadmund Dravin?”

“Kadmund Dravin escaped,” Percival Cain said dryly. “Apparently the mercenaries I hired to kill him, who I have showered with appreciate and hospitality, saw fit to let him leave.”

“Admiral Cain,” Mercuria said, panic in her voice. “Rest assured that.”

“No worries, Mercuria my dear,” Cain raised a hand to silence her. “All will be well.”

Cain clicked his fingers and Jethro shuffled in to the room, passing him a glass of whiskey. Cain took the glass and opened out his arms to address the room, immediately capturing the crowd.

“Fear not, for Kadmund Dravin and the gold on his head is not lost to you,” Percival Cain said, a maverick smile upon his face. “My sources have tracked him down to his final fortress, the one place he has left to run. A small, unnamed watching post on the border between the Southron Hills and The Bannorn. Once you are all prepared, Valo-Kas, you will all dispatch on one final mission for me and kill Kadmund Dravin for good. All except for your wounded friend,” Cain nodded to Derevar. “Who will remain in my care. After this our contract will be completed, you will all have your gold and we can part company.”

The Valo-Kas nodded in agreement, a ripple of excitement passing through them. A chance for a second round with their enemy. A chance to end this business once and for all.

“Very well,” Percival Cain said. “Now, I am no man of medicine but I still recommend that we give your friend here some space. Please, let us leave this room.”

Derevar gave his farewells to the Valo-Kas before the mercenaries filed out of the room, Jethro herding them out with various limp arm gestures. Cain and Zarael were the last to leave.

As Percival Cain shut the door behind him, he grinned to himself. Here it was. The final part of the plan.

***

Derevar awoke in the middle of the night. Thanks to the treatment he’d received, both magical and medical, his wound was almost healed over. It was amazing to think that he’d recovered so quickly from a wound as grievous as impalement, but Mercuria was a near miracle worker. Of course, he had to thank Percival Cain for the more conventional treatment he’d received, and apparently at the hands of none other than Jethro Sykes. It would seem that man was good for something after all.

Derevar pulled himself out of bed. He was thirsty, and the water pouch beside his bed was empty. He’d have to go get himself some more, and if he ran into Cain or Jethro along the way then he could thank them properly. As he swung open the door and made his way down the corridors, he wondered what the other Valo-Kas were up to. They were probably camping for the night on their way to Dravin’s last keep. He was bitter that he was missing out on the final battle, but equally glad just to be alive.

“... Soris warned him just in time...”

Derevar heard the voice just down the corridor. It sounded like Jethro. Hoping to thank the servant for his help, Derevar headed in the direction of the voice.

“... thank the Maker that Dravin managed to escape...”

Derevar froze, his heart skipping a beat. Had he just heard right? That voice... it had sounded like Percival Cain. Derevar crept closer, standing outside the doorway. He could hear them more clearly now. It was Cain and Jethro. And what they were talking about chilled him to the bone.

“Had Dravin not escaped, we could have improvised,” Cain admitted. “But still, his escape was useful. He’s nothing now, anyway, not a single man under his command or a fort flying his flag. I might hunt him down and kill him once all this has done, but he’ll hardly be worth the bother.”

“But are you sure the Teyrn will be there?” Jethro asked. “Too much could go wrong with this, sir. We need to be SURE.”

“There’s nothing else we can do,” Cain said uncomfortably. “I detest variables, but they are inevitable in cases such as this. However, I see no reason that this shouldn’t go perfectly well. War with the Qunari will be a sure thing once the Valo-Kas reach the keep. Stanzel Haines will soon be a thing of the past. And after that?” Cain chuckled to himself. “After that, then Thedas make way for Grand Admiral Percival Cain, emperor of the high seas and god of capital.”

Derevar was aghast. War with the Qunari? A Teyrn? Sending Soris to warn Dravin? What was going on? Taken fully aback by the shock, Derevar stumbled backwards. He stumbled backwards into something. Someone.

Derevar turned to see Zarael, her pure white skin shining in the moonlight.

She raised a single, lightning-charged hand to Derevar’s chest.

***

After Zarael had subdued him, Derevar had been brought before Percival Cain and bound to a chair. He had been taken to the throne room, a wider open space where Cain could better perform.

“So,” Percival Cain said, leaning back in his chair before Derevar, Zarael and Jethro flanking him. “Derevar, isn’t it? You were always the smart one. The one I had my eye on. I considered having you killed while you were wounded in bed, you know. Just reopen the wound and let you bleed out, save a sharp mind such as yours from cottoning on. But, alas, I waited too long and now we’re here. But you always knew something wasn’t right, didn’t you Derevar?”

“I saw how you manipulated Mercuria and the others into removing Shokrakar and replacing her with Mercuria,” Derevar replied coldly. “How at every chance you lifted Mercuria up and brought Shokrakar down. How you even convinced Logger to abandon the group in order to discredit Shokrakar. What I never knew is _why_?”

Cain reached into his pocket and pulled out a single gold sovereign, which he tossed onto Derevar’s lap.

“For _that_ ,” Cain said simply. “For money. Let me tell you a story.

I built my business up from nothing. I began as a small information broker, until I used my contacts to hatch a plan that would steal me one of the greatest treasure troves in Thedas. While that failed, I managed to acquire myself something possibly even better: a ship. The fastest ship in all Thedas. _The Songbird_. With the fastest pirate vessel of all time in my hands it was quick and easy to plunder and pillage across the high seas. I captured ships and recruited crew, so much so that in a couple of years I had myself a fleet and a fortune. I bought myself a castle, and from that very castle I now govern an oceanic empire. A piracy fleet to rival The Felicisima Armada. But there has always been one key obstacle in the way. A man named Stanzel Haines.

When I first began the large-scale piracy business it was easy, with my business skill and intuition, to quickly eclipse the competition. It didn’t take long to become the sole pirate admiral in Thedas, gaining a monopoly on the piracy market that lesser men couldn’t even dream of. Or at least I would if not for Stanzel Haines. He was always a tough one. A stubborn one. Worst of all, a connected one. The reason Stanzel Haines has remained my rival for so long is because he has connections to people I couldn’t even get a letter to. The Tevinter Magisterium. The Grey Wardens of Weisshaupt. And one more important than others. The trade partner that truly makes Stanzel Haines a continental force to be reckoned with. Can you figure out who they are?”

“Yes,” Derevar said bitterly, furious that he hadn’t realised it before. “The Qunari.”

“Indeed!” Cain laughed mockingly. “Stanzel Haines is the only merchant in the entire south of Thedas who has a contract with the Qunari. He trades them the latest southern technological designs in exchange for the latest secrets that the Qunari are willing to share, and then he sells them to the highest bidder for a fortune! With the Qunari on his side, Stanzel Haines remains my main and only competition. It was upon realising this, and hearing rumours about an all-vashoth mercenary group named The Blades of the Valo-Kas with one _very special member_ , that I came up with my plan to ruin Haines once and for all.”

“That ‘special member,’” Derevar replied. “That would be Mercuria?”

“Of course,” Cain responded. “A gift from the Maker himself. A vashoth who wants to be a Qunari, who dresses like a Qunari, who wear Qunari Vitaar, who has the Maker-damned Qunari symbol on her armour! Upon hearing about her, I just had to have her organisation carry out my plan. Of course, when I found out that Shokrakar lead the group and not her then I had to change that. It was important that the face of the Valo-Kas be wearing red and white Vitaar.”

Derevar had already realised Cain’s plan by now. It was so simple, and yet so perfect. But he let the pirate continue regardless.

“Upon gaining the allegiance of my ‘Qunari agents’,” Cain continued. “I set them to work. The bandits Kadmund Dravin and Kraegor Tok had become a thorn in my side, so I worked to raise the profile of the Valo-Kas by having them march up and down Ferelden conquering bandit fortresses. Meanwhile, myself and my ally Soris spread rumours far and wide that these Valo-Kas were, in fact, Ben-Hassrath agents sent by the Qunari to conquer Ferelden. You haven’t been into civilisation in a while, Derevar, and I’ve seen to that by giving you all rooms in my castle. But there is fear all up and down Ferelden. Terror of the roving Qunari warriors who are conquering the nation bit by bit. Word has spread far and wide, but what the rumours need is _authenticity_. King Alistair and Queen Anora would never taken action against the entire Qunari people on the basis of a few horned giants destroying bandits for them. But what if these ‘Qunari agents’ didn’t just attack bandits? What if they attacked, say... a Fereldan military fortress currently commanded by Fergus Cousland, Teyrn of Highever?”

“You... that’s where you sent Mercuria...” Derevar was horrified.

“Correct,” Cain nodded. “The Valo-Kas will attack the Teyrn’s castle believing that Kadmund Dravin, who I warned in hopes that he would escape and make my story to lure the Valo-Kas to the castle more convincing, is there. They will likely all be slain, removing dangerous loose ends. Then, after this dastardly attempt by the Qunari to murder a Teyrn and conquer a Ferelden fort, panic would spread all across Ferelden. There would be talk of a Qunari invasion, of an all-out war. And then, hark, what do the good people of Amaranthine see? A Qunari dreadnaught, sailing along their coastline. Of course, a fleet would be dispatched immediately to destroy the vessel. Nevermind that the vessel was not part of an invasion fleet but in fact a trading vessel travelling to do business with Stanzel Haines. The fallout from this I have planned very carefully. On the Ferelden side I will send representatives, more Tal-Vashoth mercenaries masquerading as Qunari, to ‘negotiate’ with the crown. After several bribes and shows of good faith the entire issue would apparently be smoothed over. But on the Qunari side? The Qunari will hear of how Stanzel Haines attempted to rob their ship and plunder their goods for free before sinking the ship. They will completely cut him off, Stanzel Haines will lose his edge, and I will be the sole power in the piracy world. The richest and most powerful pirate who ever lived.”

Derevar was stunned. He was completely agog. All he could do was stare at Percival Cain as the pirate sat there, grinning, his yellow eyes glinting.

“You... you’ve been manipulating us all from the start,” was all Derevar could manage. “All... all just part of some plan to get rich and powerful.”

“I know,” Cain smiled. “Isn’t it amazing? I most enjoyed telling the story. But, alas, I cannot allow it to be repeated outside this room. Goodbye, Derevar.”

Percival Cain stood up and took a short knife from Jethro’s outstretched hand. He then strode forwards and stabbed Derevar in the abdomen. Derevar gasped, his eyes widening, and as Cain whipped out the blade Derevar slumped forwards and was still.

“Jethro,” Percival Cain ordered. “Dispose of the body. Zarael, pour me some whisky. The Valo-Kas should be near Teyrn Cousland’s keep, and a celebration will be in order.”


	11. Shards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blades of the Valo-Kas have been betrayed and manipulated, sent into a trap by Percival Cain in order to act out his plan for an ultimate rise to power. However, an unforeseen element could save the Valo-Kas and reveal Percival Cain for who he truly is

Jethro heaved and puffed as he carried the huge, grey body through the corridors, wincing as the dead mercenary’s horn dug into his side. Admiral Cain always gave him the worst jobs, Jethro thought bitterly. He imagined that the Admiral was with Zarael right now, the two laughing their heads off at the thought of him lugging the corpse of a Qunari through the corridors.

Jethro walked passed a door to the balcony, and paused for a second. Admiral Cain had ordered him to take the body, what was left of this ‘Derevar’, down to the sewers and dump him there. But he’d have to go down about four flights of stairs for that, and he hadn’t even reached the end of the corridor. What did it matter, Jethro thought as he swung open the balcony door. The balcony on this side of the castle faced out to the sea. He could just toss the body, or at least roll it, over the side and into the ocean. It wasn’t like anyone would find it, be it in the sewers or in the sea.

Jethro’s face was an unhealthy shade of red as he dragged the huge body over onto the balcony. He propped Derevar up against the ledge before leaning up against it himself, gasping for breath. He’d just take a little time out to catch his breath, then he’d dump the body over the side and go to bed.

Jethro had barely gotten a moment’s rest before Derevar leapt up, gripped him by the head and snapped his neck.

Derevar glared distastefully at Jethro as the corpse of the weedy servant fell to the floor, collapsing in an ungainly heap with his head facing backwards. The mercenary winced as he raised a hand to his abdomen, feeling his shirt still sticky with blood. Cain’s knife had wounded him, but Tal-Vashoth were made of strong stuff. The wound hadn’t been deep enough to kill, and Derevar had feigned death until he’d had a chance to strike.

Derevar picked up the limp corpse of Jethro Sykes and tossed it over the balcony, where it fell from the castle and hit the sea with a splash, sinking like a stone to the bottom. With any luck, anyone who’d heard the splash would assume it was his body and not Jethro’s. Still, Derevar thought as he left the balcony and made his way back into the castle, he had little time. He had to get out of Castle Cain. He had to warn the Valo-Kas.

As he navigated his way through the dark and empty corridors, Derevar briefly considered finding Cain’s chamber’s, or perhaps Zarael’s, and killing them while they slept. But no, that would waste time, and could alert someone. He couldn’t risk discovery.

Derevar made it to the ground floor of the castle, narrowly avoiding several patrols of Cain’s green-armoured guards. They’d been notably absent during the Antivan Crow attack, Derevar recalled. Shame they couldn’t be as absent now. Sticking to the shadows, Derevar crept along the ground floor corridors until he came across a window from which he could drop down just outside the castle, not off a cliff into the sea. Derevar snuck out through the window and landed on a small patch of land just outside the castle, with Cain’s moat between him and what looked like a stable. Any staff would likely be asleep, as would most of the horses, but Derevar spotted a light chestnut coloured stallion still awake and grazing on some hay. After a short swim across a surprisingly shallow moat, Derevar made it to the stable. The horse seemed friendly enough, and didn’t resist as Derevar equipped it with reins and a saddle. Carefully, so as not to startle the animal and alert the castle, Derevar mounted the horse. It buckled slightly under his weight, but seemed strong and happy enough to carry him.

Derevar then felt his head spin, and put his hand once again to his abdomen. More blood. Cain’s knife must have at least partially reopened the wound inflicted by Kadmund Dravin. Derevar just prayed he could get to Fergus Cousland’s fort before the other Valo-Kas, or before he bled out. The lives of everyone he knew and loved depended on it.

Whipping the reins to spur the horse into a gallop, Derevar rode away from Castle Cain and off into the night.

***

Progress for the Valo-Kas had been painfully slow, with their numbers reducing their speed severely. But after almost two days of travel they had made it. Kadmund Dravin’s final keep.

Mercuria lead the Valo-Kas along the path leading to the fortress, which sat there at the end of the path with archers patrolling the battlements. They were watching the Valo-Kas intently, making warning gestures to each other, but not attacking yet. Good. They respected the important of this one final battle. No more clever plans or surprise attacks. Just a straight-up fight.

As the Valo-Kas stood before the fortress, the gate opened.

A strikingly handsome man stepped out, dressed in fine plate armour with a greatsword slung over his back. He had no helmet, showing off an attractive face and neat brown hair. Mercuria was taken aback. She’d not expected this to be the face of her enemy. But it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

“Kadmund Dravin,” Mercuria said to the man before her. “Finally. The face behind the mask.” Mercuria drew her staff and summoned a flame in her palm. “Just you and me, a fair fight on even ground. A surprisingly noble end for The Bandit King.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, or who this ‘Kadmund Dravin’ is,” the man said sternly, drawing his greatsword. “But I now see my attempts to negotiate are over before they even begin. I was warned your kind wouldn’t be content to just conquer bandits, Qunari. If I am what stands between Ferelden and a Qunari conquest, then so be it. Let us duel.”

The flames in Mercuria’s palm flared. Her opponent twirled his sword in his hands. They were ready to fight.

“NO!”

Mercuria batted away the large hand that grabbed her arm, stopping her from attacking, and looked up to see who had interrupted her fight. It was Shokrakar.

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing,” Mercuria hissed. “But you don’t lead this group anymore, Shokrakar. Unhand me.”

“Stop,” Shokrakar ordered, with a sternness that sent ripples through the Valo-Kas and struck an expression of shock and fury on Mercuria’s face. “You will not fight that man. That is not Kadmund Dravin.”

“What?” Mercuria asked. “What on Thedas are you talking about?”

“I saw Dravin’s face,” Shokrakar explained. “Just before he escaped, I knocked his helmet off and saw it. Derevar did too. His skin is dark, and his face scarred. This man,” Shokrakar pointed at the man with the greatsword. “Is not Kadmund Dravin.”

“Of course my name’s not ‘Kadmund Dravin’,” the man replied, completely confused. “I’m Fergus Cousland. I’m the Maker-damned Teyrn of Highever. How can you not know who I am?”

“Horseman approaching, sir!” cried a voice from the battlements.

All eye turned to see a large figure riding in on horseback from the path the Valo-Kas had been on, riding at full pelt towards the castle. It was only when the horse stopped and the rider collapsed to the floor, barely conscious, that the Valo-Kas recognised Derevar.

“Derevar!” Mercuria cried, immediately extinguishing her flames and tossing aside her staff as she ran to his side. Derevar’s shirt was stained with blood and his skin was pale.

“M-Mercuria...” Derevar uttered as his lover knelt over him, the other Valo-Kas surrounding them. Shokrakar cried at Fergus Cousland to fetch a healer, and the baffled Teyrn repeated the order to his men. Mercuria summoned a faint white glow in her hands as she began pouring healing magic over Derevar.

“What happened?” Mercuria asked frantically. “Why are you here? Has something happened back at the castle?”

“We... we’ve been betrayed,” Derevar managed, coughing up a little blood onto his palm. “Percival Cain... has been using us... all along. He... he stabbed me when I found out, I... I think he’s killed me.” Through a strained voice, Derevar explained Percival Cain’s plan, and how he’d manipulated the Valo-Kas from the beginning.

“That bastard!” Shokrakar cried, roaring. “That Maker-damned treacherous bastard!”

“Enough about him!” Mercuria cried. Fergus Cousland’s healer had arrived, and was attempting to apply a poultice to Derevar’s large and open wound. “We need to help Derevar!”

“Mercuria...” Derevar smiled weakly. “You... you need to let me go.”

“I can’t!” Mercuria cried. “I can’t lead without you! I need you! I love you, Derevar! I love you!”

“You’ll... be fine without me,” Derevar assured her, his voice slipping as his consciousness waned. “Mercuria Adaar, you are a born leader. Some day you will be one of the greatest leaders Thedas has ever known. You don’t need me. You just need to... remember me...”

Derevar gave Mercuria one last smile, closed his eyes and died.

***

Shokrakar sat in Fergus Cousland’s war room. It was just the two of them. That was all there needed to be.

“So your employer did all this... just for economic power?” Cousland was astounded. “Darkspawn I understand, Loghain and Howe I understood, but men like him? All for nothing more than gold...”

“His motives no longer matter,” Shokrakar said. “All that matters now is revenge. Right now, my men are outside burying my second-in-command. Heads will roll for this, and I will see it done.”

“From what you say,” Cousland replied. “That’s easier said than done. This castle, as you say, has little but a token force of guards for defence, but backs onto possibly the largest private fleet of warships in Thedas. We can’t blockade the castle or the Fereldan navy could be decimated, but we can’t risk this treacherous employer of yours escaping via the ocean. It seems he has outplayed us all once again, without even realising.”

Shokrakar stared at the map of Ferelden before her, laid out on the war-room table, and mused for a second.

“Or maybe we could outplay him,” Shokrakar said hesitantly. “Easier said than done, but I think I have a plan. The Valo-Kas return to his castle, bringing good tidings. We tell him that Mercuria used her magic to raze the fortress to the ground and kill everyone inside without a fight. He then lets us in and my men and I attack. Kill him and all his people.”

“He could just have his archers fire on you and kill you,” Cousland replied. “He could assume that the blame for my death would land on the Qunari, and that your usefulness was at an end.”

“Not if we remained useful,” Shokrakar countered. “Or if we were with someone who was still of use...” Shokrakar grinned as an idea came to her, and she explained the plan to Teyrn Cousland.

“I’m a good friend of Arthur Dane, the new Arl of Denerim,” Cousland nodded, smiling a satisfied smiled. “He can get you what you need.”

Teyrn Fergus Cousland stuck out his hand, which the mercenary Shokrakar shook.

“Fair fortune to you, Shokrakar,” Fergus said. “Fight well, both for justice and for revenge. Your men are counting on you.”

***

As soon as the Valo-Kas had been spotted coming down the path, word had been sent to Percival Cain. The castle was already on high alert after the disappearance of Derevar, Jethro and one of the horses: Cain could put the pieces together. Now he paced up and down the battlements, a crossbow held tightly in his hands, ready to take the shot should he need to. He’d take out that troublesome Derevar if he still lived, that simpering weakling Mercuria if not. The others he’d leave up to the other archers.

“It would appear the mercenaries are accompanied, sir,” an archer on the battlements reported. “Looks like they’re with... an elf?”

Percival Cain narrowed his eyes and stared at the approaching group. Sure enough, there was an elf. And there was only one elf he knew of with a dress sense as ugly as that.

“Soris,” Percival Cain said warily. “There’d better be a damn good reason you’re here.”

***

Shokrakar shoved Soris along at the head of the group, her dagger pressed into the small of his back. The rest of the Valo-Kas followed behind them, weapons reluctantly sheathed.

“Unbelievable,” Soris grumbled for the hundredth time. “Dragged out my own bed by guards, beaten and chained, dragged off to some fortress in the middle of nowhere without so much as a by-your-leave... and now I’m back in your delightful company with a dagger in my back and a dozen archers in front of me. Is this your master plan? Hide nine Qunari behind one elf? Incredible.”

“Shut up,” Shokrakar grunted. That was enough to reduce Soris’ complaints to mere mumbles.

“Shokrakar!” Percival Cain cried from atop the battlements as the group approached the castle. “And Soris? What’s going on?”

“We ran into Soris on our way to Dravin’s last keep!” Shokrakar shouted up in response. “His wagon had been ambushed by bandits and broken beyond repair. He told us he had vital information for you that he would only discuss in person, and paid us to escort him back!”

Even from where she was, Shokrakar could see the quizzical look on Percival Cain’s face. She prodded Soris lightly in the back with the dagger.

“It’s true, Admiral!” Soris cried up to Cain. “Now open the bleedin’ gate and get us in!”

Cain stood on the battlements, crossbow in hand, for what seemed like an age. Finally, he signalled for his men to open the gate.

“Come in, Soris!” Cain said, an element of challenge in his voice. “Valo-Kas, go back to where I sent you! You’ve wasted enough time already, don’t you think?”

The gate was fully open. It was all they needed. Shokrakar signalled Mercuria.

Mercuria dove forwards and unleashed the spell she’d been building up at the battlements. Cain’s archers dove for cover as she sprayed a jet of ice from her palms which formed a huge wall over the battlements, obscuring the Valo-Kas from view.

“Now!” Shokrakar cried, and the Valo-Kas cheered a battle cry as the group charged into the fortress, trampling Soris as they went. Once the Valo-Kas were in the castle the elf pulled himself up again, spitting out a dislodged tooth, and looked up at the battlements. The wall of ice had been shattered, revealing a furious Percival Cain and a dozen angry archers.

Percival Cain took aim with his crossbow and shot Soris in the throat. The elven scoundrel stumbled back, gasping for air through a punctured windpipe while scrabbling at the bolt sticking out of his throat, before sinking to the ground and collapsing, dead. Cain then tossed aside his crossbow and drew his sword before heading back into the castle.

***

The Valo-Kas tore their way through the castle, making short work of the private guards Cain sent against them. Their armour was strong and their weapons were of high quality, but the guards themselves were clearly just pirates and sellswords in fancy kit. Image above everything. Typical of Percival Cain.

“This way!” Shokrakar ordered the Valo-Kas, pointing down a corridor that lead to a large room. “This way to the throne room!” The Valo-Kas charged down the path, as per her orders.

“Well, Shokrakar,” Taarlok said with a grin as she walked past. “Looks like Mercuria’s time as our commander was brief.”

Taarlok then followed the rest of the men, leaving Shokrakar to realise what she meant. With Mercuria still distraught after Derevar’s death, she’d slipped seamlessly back into the role of leader. Even if it was just while Mercuria grieved, she was glad for it. These were, and always would be, her men.

Shokrakar followed her men down the corridor and into the large room at the end, which appeared to be a kind of ballroom. Part of her wonder what kind of guests a man like Percival Cain entertained. She quickly brushed that thought from her mind as she lead the men to a door on the far side, which she knew lead to a staircase that would take them to the throne room. There they would find Percival Cain.

Kaariss went to open the door, but his hand was almost blown off as a lightning bolt fired from across the room narrowly missed him.

The group turned to see Zarael standing across the room from them, lightning arcing from the snow-white palms of her hands.

“You,” Zarael seethed, pointing a finger with a perfectly manicured nail at the Valo-Kas. “You have ruined _everything_. Months of planning. Weeks of work. Dozens of sacrifices. I was going to be a _queen_. An _empress_ , ruling beside the Admiral over an economic empire the likes of you cannot even _comprehend_. And you’ve all ruined it. You. A band of dirty, lowborn, two-bit _thugs_.”

As the lightning arcing from Zarael flared up, Mercuria stepped forward and drew her staff.

“Go,” Mercuria gestured to the other Valo-Kas, generating electricity in her own palms. “I’ll handle her. Find Cain. Kill him. Avenge Derevar.”

The Valo-Kas paused briefly before obeying the order and leaving Mercuria and Zarael facing each other, each crackling with magical electricity.

“ _You_ fight _me_?” Zarael scoffed, striding forwards. The high heels of her black dragonskin shoes clicked on the marble floor beneath her. “A cheap warrior who knows who to fling a spell versus a master of the arcane arts.”

“Nothing’s cheaper than words,” Mercuria retorted. “Time to see what Cain’s chambermaid can do.”

Roaring with fury, Zarael tossed a beam of pure lightning at Mercuria that the mercenary only just managed to dodge, diving to the side before springing up and firing off several bolts of lightning from both her palms and staff. Zarael managed to absorb the first of these, but the last few were more than she could take and knocked her off balance. Mercuria took the opportunity to blast Zarael with a jet of fire, but the elven mage managed to summon a magical barrier just in time to shield herself from the attack. Once the flames dissipated Zarael countered by blasting several shards of ice that Mercuria was forced to deflect with her staff in a display of skill that clearly unnerved Zarael, leading to a weak defence when Mercuria fired a beam of pure energy at Zarael that threw her across the room. Mercuria strode over to finish her off but Zarael recovered before Mercuria was ready, and the elf blasted a barrage of pure lightning at Mercuria. With few other options, Mercuria blasted her own stream of lightning back and the two fierce magical attacks met in the middle, clashing with a crack of thunder as the two powerful mages pushed against each other. The two stood there, evenly matched as mages.

_Wait_

_That was the point_

It dawned on Mercuria as she strained to hold back Zarael’s spell while pushing back with her own. She would never beat Zarael as a mage. The elf was far too powerful. So she wouldn’t fight her as a mage.

She’d fight her as a warrior.

Mercuria cut off her lightning stream and dived to the ground, the supercharged spell flying over her and blowing an enormous hole in the wall behind her. She rolled over just in time to see Zarael standing over her, hands charged with lightning, ready to deliver a final killing blow. But when that final bolt of lightning came, Mercuria didn’t summon a barrier or retaliate with a fireball. She simply raised her gauntlet and deflected the magical attack, using the time gained from Zarael’s surprise to pull herself to her feet. Before Zarael could attack again Mercuria lashed out with a vicious punch that knocked Zarael back and broke her nose, staining her snow-white skin with red blood. Mercuria then raised her staff and Zarael prepared to shield herself from a magical attack, but Mercuria simply lunged at Zarael with the bladed end of the staff.

Mercuria stabbed Zarael in the abdomen with the spear-end of the staff, and Zarael gasped in a mix of shock and pain. Blood trickled from the wound down the black dragonskin of Zarael’s attire, a drop of it dripping onto the floor. Mercuria then yanked out the staff and slung it over her back. Zarael stared at Mercuria, her bloodstained hands clutching at the wound, before her eyes clouded over and her dead body collapsed to the floor.

Mercuria turned away from Zarael’s body and followed after the Valo-Kas.

***

Percival Cain was waiting for them, sat on his throne and sipping his whiskey. His hat was low, casting a shadow over his face in which his bright yellow eyes glowed.

“The Blades of the Valo-Kas,” Percival Cain declared as Shokrakar and her men entered the room. “How nice to-”

Shokrakar strode forwards and plucked Cain from his throne, thrusting him into the air. His glass of whiskey dropped to the floor, shattering on impact, and Shokrakar batted his hat from his head with a single backhanded blow revealing the tousled blonde hair below.

“I’ve got no time for your theatre, Cain,” Shokrakar growled. She then threw Cain as hard as she could into his throne which he knocked over with the impact, sending him sprawling across the floor like a ragdoll. Shokrakar then strode over again and scooped him up, punching him several times in the gut. She tore his sword from his belt, threw him down and snapped the blade over her knee before delivering a swift kick to Cain’s stomach. Finally, she picked him up and shoved him against the wall by his throat, his yellow eyes bulging as she squeezed.

“I should kill you,” Shokrakar seethed. “You lying, thieving, murdering, conniving little bastard. You’ve murdered one of my men and caused the death of another. You’ve almost torn my group apart, and almost had us all killed. The number of people who’ve died purely for your own personal profit is beyond counting. You, Percival Cain, are a scumbag and a rat and you deserve to die.”

Shokrakar stopped squeezing and dropped Cain to the hard, stone floor, where he wheezed for breath.

“But I’m going to spare you.”

Still gasping for breath, Cain stared up at Shokrakar with a coy smile. “How... how kind of you. Would you... would you be so kind as to explain yourself?”

Shokrakar kicked Cain in the stomach.

“What the hell are you doing?” Meraad cried. “Kill him!”

“Yeah!” Ashaad Two hollered. “Spill his guts!”

“No,” Shokrakar said, raising a finger to silence them. “No. Because Logger was right. My anger, it... it was tearing this group apart long before we ever took this contract. Long before Cain ever started meddling. And unless I overcome it then The Blades of the Valo-Kas, the thing that means more to me than any revenge, will cease to be. And I reckon if I can restrain myself from killing Percival Cain then I can restrain myself from anything.”

“May I take a moment,” Percival Cain said from down on the floor. “To thank you for your generosity?”

Shokrakar punched down, knocking Cain out as his head hit the stone floor.

“I’ll hand this loathsome little swine over to Ferelden,” Shokrakar told her men. “He’ll hang like a common criminal for his crimes, because that’s all our ‘Pirate Admiral’ is. Now come on. I’m sick of this place.”

***

Mercuria stood outside Castle Cain, her arms folded and a smile on her face. To her left was King Alistair Theirin. To her right was Queen Anora Mac Tir Theirin. The mercenary stood shoulder-to-shoulder with royalty as they watched royal soldiers drag Percival Cain, his hands cuffed and a bag over his head, into a prison wagon. Cain was thrown inside, the door was locked and the wagon was driven off to Denerim.

“I must thank you for all your services,” King Alistair said warmly. “It’s not every day some random mercenary saves all of Ferelden from a mad pirate’s plot to take over the world economy. In fact it’s no other days. Only this one. Which I guess is why it’s special.”

“What my husband is trying to say,” Queen Anora said sternly. “Is that you and your men have done Ferelden and Thedas a great service. Were you not all mercenaries, and Qunari mercenaries at that, you would be rewarded with lands and titles and medals. I assume a large bag of gold will suffice?”

“That will be perfect, thank you, your majesties,” Mercuria bowed humbly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, the others are waiting for me.”

The King and Queen of Ferelden dismissed Mercuria Adaar, and she went off to join the other Valo-Kas.

“A bandit empire and a pirate empire toppled all in a few weeks,” Alistair shook his head with disbelief. “Gadreel Mahariel himself couldn’t have done the same. In as much time, anyway. ‘Adaar’ was her name, correct? There’s potential in that woman. Morrigan would probably have said she had a little bit of destiny.”

“With all the current turmoil and all the chaos on the horizon, we need all the great and destined people we can find,” Anora replied. “Mahariel, Hawke... maybe Adaar will be added to that list someday.”

“I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy,” Alistair admitted. “Responsibility’s a curse. It’s why I married you. Takes some of the weight off. One thing makes me curious, though. What happened to Kadmund Dravin?”

“Gone,” Anora said simply. “I have people hunting for him but with his organisation destroyed there’s little damage one lone bandit can do. Kadmund Dravin may not be dead, but he’s finished.”

“Super,” Alistair smiled. “But what about our pirate mastermind... what was his name?” Alistair furrowed his brow. “You know, it’s just occurred to me that Fergus never learned his name. And none of the Valo-Kas mentioned it, as far as I remember. What was it?”

“Stanzel Haines,” Anora said, concealing the grin that grew on her face. “His name was Stanzel Haines.”

***

The Blades of the Valo-Kas were all together now. What was left of them, at least. Shokrakar, Mercuria, Kaariss, Taarlok, Meraad, Sataa, Hissra and the two Ashaads.

“The men are all ready to go,” Mercuria informed Shokrakar. “Are we ready to go, boss?”

“Sure, lieutenant,” Shokrakar smiled at her second-in-command. “Let’s go see what that horizon has in store.”

And so The Blades of the Valo-Kas turned away from Castle Cain and headed off down the path, wondering what the future had in store.

***

Percival Cain had been bound, gagged and had a bag placed over his head. He’d been tossed into the bag of a wagon, driven for days over the rockiest terrain available with only a few scraps tossed to him for food and been rudely kicked awake once they’d arrived at their destination. He’d then been dragged out of the wagon and into the dungeons of the royal palace in Denerim.

Then his bag had been removed, the gag taken off, his cuffs unlocked. He’d then been escorted out of the dungeons and up into the finest guest suite the palace had on offer. He’d been given a crystal glass, a bottle of Nevarran whiskey and a comfortable, throne-like chair. They’d even given him back his hat. And then, finally, he’d been given an audience with Queen Anora herself. It had turned out far better than he’d expected.

“So we have a deal?” Percival Cain asked Queen Anora, sipping from his glass of whiskey. “I get a seat in the Fereldan Royal Court and the title of ‘Admiral Lord Percival Cain’. Meanwhile, my arch rival Stanzel Haines is hanged in my place, with full blame for my dastardly deeds placed on his shoulders, giving me a complete monopoly on the Thedosian piracy market?”

“Yes,” Queen Anora confirmed, her face unreadable. “In exchange, you work for me. Your pirate fleet becomes a privateer fleet. The Fereldan Privateer Armada, each ship under the command of the Fereldan crown and flying the Fereldan flag. You swear complete fealty to the Fereldan crown and only perform acts of piracy on ships flying the flags of Ferelden’s enemies. 50% of your profits go to Ferelden, 30% go to me personally and the other 20% goes to you. Do we have a deal, Cain?”

“That’s _Admiral Lord_ Percival Cain, your majesty,” Cain said with a smile. “Yes, we very much have a deal.”

Queen Anora left the room to begin the official proceedings, leaving Percival Cain alone in the guest suite. As he sat there, sipping his whiskey with his hat casting a shadow over his face, he pondered. He thought about that pirate captain, Isabela, who he’d used as a pawn on his rise to power and would now likely sell her ship in exchange for his head. He thought about Mercuria Adaar and The Blades of the Valo-Kas, who would tear him limb from limb if they knew he was not only alive but victorious. He smiled. They truly had no idea what he’d become, what he’d achieved. He wondered if he’d ever see them again.

But whether he did or not, one thing was for certain.

Thedas hadn’t heard the last of Percival Cain.


End file.
